Stockholm
by Anonymous Improvement
Summary: England had always told me he loved me; and in my naivety, I believed him. I believed him when he forced a cigarette into my mouth, I believed him when he pushed the alcohol down my throat, and I believed him when he forced me.
1. The First Stage

******Author's Note:** This story is about the emotion turmoil and self brain washing involved in dealing with abuse. It is not a laughing matter, but is, in fact interesting to read about, and easier to read about in the form of fiction. If you like this fanfiction, I highly recommend the book When Jeff Comes Home. It is an enthralling tale about a young man trying to overcome the aftermath of his abuse.

**Warning:** This is EnglandXAmerica (mostly). This is extremely dark. This chapter contains pedophilia, and a rape scene from America's point of view. Again. This contains rape, abuse, Stockholm syndrome, and things of that nature. I DO NOT condone or encourage the behavior depicted, nor do I expect anyone else to. It is written graphically only to enhance the realistically of the situation.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Hetalia.

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England had always told me he loved me; and i my naivety, I believed him. I believed him when he forced a cigarette into my mouth, I believed him when he pushed the alcohol down my throat, and I believed him when he forced me.

I sat back in my chair and closed my eyes. I twitched involuntarily and my scars suddenly ached as I laid my head back. It was times like these when the memories flooded my mind and the flashbacks consumed me.

I remember the first time _it_ happened. I was just a little kid, I didn't know what was happening... he moved so fast. I was curled up in the covers of my bed, sleeping soundly. I remember thrashing, trying to push Arthur off of me, the wounds he inflicted earlier that day beginning to burn... he never treated my wounds properly, so they all scared. I cried and pushed and begged to the imaginary Arthur on top of me, thinking it was another nightmare.

I swung and hit something. I froze, horrified, my eyes flying open as I realized it wasn't a dream. Arthur was really on top of me, and I had hit him. I knew I was in for it, in for another beating. I started bawling as he raised his hand, my tiny body trembling in fear. But he didn't hit me, instead raising his hand to his face where I had hit him.

He ran a hand through my hair in a gentle manner so unfamiliar to me. In my innocence I melted into the touch, loving every second of it. He smiled at me gently and told me he was sorry. Told me he didn't mean it, told me he wanted to make it up to me by bringing me pleasure. The first thing I felt was his lips. They were against my neck and I whimpered, it hurt. He pulled my nightshirt over my head and his lips moved to my chest. I bit my lip so I wouldn't whine, lest I get another beating. I tried not to struggle, but it was uncomfortable, and when a firm hand grasped my manhood, I couldn't help it. A harsh hit was landed across my face and cruel words were growled at me.

"I'm trying to be kind to you, so stay the fuck still."

I stopped struggling- not because I was afraid of being hit, but because Arthur cursed, he _cursed_; even when he was beating me, he rarely cursed, it was beneath him. So I stayed still and let him do as he pleased. I felt his hand wrap around me again and I choked back tears when it escalated to lips. I felt something warm and soft being pressed against it. I don't remember if I got hard or not- I don't think I was old enough to cum either, but even if I could remember, I don't think I would want to anyway. He pulled back smiling, looking at it, amused. He ran a finger up it gently and I shuddered. I kept my mouth shut because, although uncomfortable, it hurt much less than a beating.

I felt my knees hit my torso and I tried to protest, but I couldn't form any words, my speaking incoherent as I felt something foreign pressing into my backside. It was his tongue again, and I thrashed my head. I felt that sensation in my stomach again...the kind I get when Iggy cooks for me. I knew this was wrong, oh god, so wrong, but Arthur didn't seem to care, and tried to stretch me anyway.

I felt my face become damp as a lone tear slid down it, but Arthur still didn't care. He spit on my entrance and the cold wetness caused a chill to run up my spine. He pressed a finger into me and more tears joined the first. He let me put my feet back down, so I dug them into the sheets, trying to back away as it pushed in farther. He grabbed my ankle in what I knew was a warning and I stopped moving immediately, not wanting to be hit again. I closed my eyes, taking deep breathes to try to stop my impulse to kick. He could barely reach his knuckle, and when he added a second, even that was impossible.

I sobbed, my tiny body shaking almost violently. A hand was placed on my stomach to settle me, and by the time I was reduced to a sobbing, shuddering mess, I was being lifted into the older man's lap. I opened my eyes in time to watch him plant a soft kiss on my forehead.

"Now relax my boy." He cooed to me in that beautiful, silky, loving voice that made everything better. I relaxed almost instantly, wanting to cuddle close to him so bad. I was slowly lowered, and I felt something against me, pushing into me.

"A-Arfur...wha-what awe you..." My eyes widened as I realized he was trying to push his into me. "p-p-p-pwease don't...i-it won't f-fit." I cried and begged and pushed at him weakly, but his nails dug into my hips and he pressed himself into me slowly. I felt the head penetrating me and shrieked. The sound resonated, echoing through the room as I cried and begged him to stop.

He lied to me, this didn't feel good at all. "Huwts." I looked at him horrified as he moaned, saying I was too tight, too good. He pushed farther and I felt bile rise in my throat. I was full and he still wanted more, more I couldn't give.

He finally stopped moving, panting. I cried harder, the pain overwhelming me. I couldn't even take in half of him and wiggled in pain. He moaned at this, a pleasured expression gracing his face. His nails dug deeper into my hips and I felt the soft skin start to bleed.I whimpered in pain and he started to pull out.

"Oh..th-thank you, I knew you wouldn't huwt me..." I felt it moving back in and I shrieked. "A-Arfur...what awe you...Pwease!" I cried harder, thrashing, only to find it hurt more that way. I stopped struggling, getting that sick feeling again. I let him do as he pleased once more, feeling something rip and warm blood that I knew was mine. "Huwts." I repeated, crying harder, feeling my body start to go numb. I twitched for a reason I didn't know and stared at a small spot of blood on the wall. I recognized it as my own, a spot too high on the wall for me to clean after a beating.

My eyes glazed over and my body became limp. I knew he was still moving because I could hear his grunts and groans, but I couldn't feel it anymore. All I could feel was a dull ache running through my body, and the need to throw up, that sick feeling in my stomach. I whimpered in pain, the world becoming hazy.

I woke up the next morning, my body was clean, but I still felt dirty. I was laying on a fluffy pillow, my small body curled unconsciously in a fetal position. I wasn't sure how I got there, I figured I must have passed out, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was that the pain was gone...but I still felt dirty, I could still feel his hands on me. I shifted to get up, to wash and scrub myself raw. I screamed as pain ricocheted up my spine, and my body fell limp. I wasn't going to be washing myself... or walking. I went back to sleep, unable to do anything else...

but that was okay, because Arthur loved me.

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Again, this story is about the emotion turmoil and self brain washing involved in dealing with abuse. I hope you did enjoy it, and will continue reading.


	2. Vision

M'kay~ Second Chapter. Blah blah blah, same warning, though no rape. This chapter honestly probably isn't even M. Buuuuttttt the next one _definetly_ will be.~ ...Blah, blah, blah...boring disclaimer stuffs. I do not own Hetalia. Enjoy~

_Silent creatures in the dark_  
_Hiding in every cervix_  
_Swiftly, silently, lurking about_  
_In the dark uneasiness of serenity's keep_

_~By Dana~  
_

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Smash. I heard my shoulder hit the small table as a lamp clattered to the floor and my head hit the wall with a sickening crack. I felt blood drip down my head and saw double, toppling to the floor in a mess of limbs. I clutched my head as it felt like someone took a jackhammer to it. He stared down at me as I looked back in fear.

"Boy, don't you EVER speak to me that way again."

I nodded once, unable to move much more. He came over to me, kneeling by my body. He brushed some hair out of my face and picked me up, placing me in a chair. I felt a needle in my arm and a damp towel against my head.

I'm not sure when he got it, but then again, I was only half conscious. My body went numb in what I assumed was a result of the blood loss, but my mind went back to that needle. He had given me something to dull the pain and I was silently thankful, unable to speak. I felt a sewing needle and if I had been able to, I would have screamed. The pain slowly dulled away and I simply let him work, barely even noticing it was there.

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I woke up the next morning with a dull pain in my head and I jumped out of my bed in glee. I scampered out of my room, my small, bare feet shuffling rather loudly against the hard floor. I ran to where I knew Arthur would be, drinking tea, like he did every morning he was here. He smiled down at me, putting down his cup of tea and lifting me into his lap.

"Arfur!" I squeaked, hugging him in pure love and excitement, the events from the day before forgotten. He patted my back as I nuzzled his chest gently, ignoring the pain in my head.

"Good morning Alfred, did you sleep well?" His voice was pleasant and his demeanor gentle. I nodded, cuddling closer to him, not even remembering what I had said to anger him a mere hours before. He smiled at me and put me down. I looked outside wistfully. It was autumn now, the air chilled. Excited, I ran outside in my nightshirt, Arthur following close behind. I jumped into a pile of leaves, playing in the colorful array.

The hours went by and it seemed as if I had avoided a beating for the day. In essence, it was a perfect day. Soon, day turned to night, and I snuggled under the blankets. Arthur tucked me in, of course without a loving word, the English weren't the type, but that was ok, because I knew he loved me. I ignored that he was only this kind after a bad beating, and I ignored the dull ache in the back of my head. It was because I had been bad, had deserved to be hit. Arthur dulled the pain for me, made me feel better, saved me...didn't let me bleed to death... So, I ignored the obvious, because, Arthur loves me.

But most of all, as I drifted off to sleep, I ignored that all day I was having trouble seeing, likely the result of the hit to my head and poor medical treatment, because Arthur didn't mean it, and I was his tough colony.

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Sorry it's so short, the next one will be longer.^^


	3. Smoking

I do not own Hetalia. There isn't anything really graphic in this chapter, please enjoy.

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Arthur had left then, his visit short lived. I fell back into my usual routine: wake up, choke down tea...(sneak some coffee), eat breakfast, clean the house, eat lunch, manage the yard...(sneak some candy), read, eat dinner, color, go to sleep...wake up, choke down tea... (sneak some coffee), eat breakfast...

The days went on like this and time seemed to drag on. I realized slowly that I had been growing rather quickly. I could reach things I never could before, though, usually, I still needed a chair... something I would never tell Arthur... Standing on furniture was sure to get me hit.

When I went into town, some women said I resembled an eight year old. I wasn't sure what they meant, but they started ranting about how I didn't speak as cutely anymore, and how I really looked nine... no, seven, and they lost me in their girly gibberish that I was sure wasn't a form of English. But, they were my people, and they all mattered just the same to me.

Everyday I would wait for him to come home, the house in perfect shape, but he never came. I always knew he would though, because he loved me. After several weeks, I started to lose hope, missing him horribly. The scar on my head ached the more I thought and the closer I got to tears.

Finally, there was a knock on my door, and I ran to it eagerly, abandoning my half drunken tea and the unruly mess of breakfast aftermath. I swung the door open. "Arthur!" He sighed, shaking away the look of shock on his face as he saw how much I'd grown in the past couple of weeks.

"Don't you check to see who was at the door before opening it?" He rose an eyebrow at me accusingly. "And don't slam the door like that!" I simply smiled at him childishly, just happy to hear his voice.

I stepped to the side, letting him through. He walked into the house, looking around, almost examining if for flaws...something he found when he entered the kitchen. "What is this?" His voice hardened as he looked at the mess and unfinished tea.

"I-I just finished making breakfast...a-and you came just as I was cleaning...would you like some tea?" I nervously asked, going to the counter to get the pot. I stared up at the counter, realizing I needed the chair to reach it. I hesitated, shuffling my feet as he watched me expectantly...so I reached for my chair. I climbed onto it causciously, knowing I would be in trouble.

The chair clattered to the floor as I felt a sting on my face. "Young gentlemen do not stand on chairs Alfred." He spoke sweetly, contradicting his scornful expression. I nodded, standing up and fixing the chair.

"I'm sorry." I looked at the ground, not wanting to meet his gaze.

"You will look at me when you speak to me boy."

I looked up at his with a glazed over expression. "Yes sir." I bit my lip so I could keep my eyes locked with his. He looked at me sternly and I found it hard to hold his gaze, so I stared without really looking at anything. I heard a clink. "No, please, don't!" I gasped, covering my mouth with my hand as I realized what I had said. I knew he was going for his belt.

"Alright." I stood shocked, surprised that he would comply with my requests.

I squeaked as my hair was harshly yanked, being pulled along by it. I was bent over his knee and a firm hand hit against my backside, once, twice, three times. I bit my lip harder, drawing blood; knowing if I screamed or cried I'd only be hit harder.

He stopped for a few moments and I stared up at him. He looked at me as if he were..._admiring_ his work...but I knew he wasn't/ It was punishment, he didn't enjoy giving it as much as I didn't enjoy receiving it, I just knew it.

He landed one more hit and I winced. I was lifted into a sitting position and it hurt to sit. "Never mind that nonsense my boy. I brought you a present."

My face lit up and I cuddled to him tightly. "Really?" He nodded and reached into his pocket, pulling out a small box. I looked at it curiously. It was filled with small white sticks that didn't smell very nice, and I scrunched my nose. He took one out of the box and put it to my lips, but I closed them tightly and turned my head, refusing to let the foul smelling item into my mouth. He grabbed the back of my head and I squeaked, giving him the opportunity to shove the offensive object into my mouth.

I bit down hard and a disgusting substance pooled onto my tongue, and I turned away; gagging and dry heaving at the horrible taste. He rubbed my back gently, pulling out another of what I later found out was called a 'cigarette', and put it to my lips once more.

"Don't bite this time." He spoke gently and I nodded, enclosing the end of it between my lips softly. He reached into his pocket and pulled out what I identified as matches. I flinched as he lit one, afraid he was going to burn me, but he lit the cigarette instead.

He quickly pulled it from my mouth as I started gagging again. He rubbed my back and put it back into my mouth when I stopped coughing. My eyes widened and I coughed on the smoke again, this cycle repeating several times. "Shh shh...it's ok, just like that...there you go...just a little more..." He mumbled gentle encouragements to me before finally putting out the horrible thing. I sighed in relief, taking deep breathes to clear my lungs of the rancid substance. "Don't worry Alfred, you'll get used to it."

I looked at him in horror. "U-used to it?"

"Yes, the southern region of your colonies produces the ingrediants for these. There is a higher demand now, and they must produce more; so you will learn how to smoke these. You do wish to support your people, do you not?" I nodded slowly, staring at the carten on the table. The cigarettes were horrible, certainly not something I wanted to start using daily, but, I did.

I spent the rest of that day learning to smoke. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, forcing myself to ignore the burning in my throat and the awful feeling it gave me. It grew late and Arthur put my into bed, of course no loving gesture to go with it...the English were simply not the type.

Looking back, had I been older, I might have realized he was merely trying to get me addicted to the horrible substance, force me into needing something, into being bound tighter to him, through addiction. However, the only thing I realized was how proud I had made Iggy that day, how I knew he would love me all the more for the brave thing I had done, and I fell asleep, pondering these thoughts.

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Thanks for reading!


	4. Blow Me Away

Warning: pedophilia and child abuse.

I do not condone these actions, or encourage them. As a writer I chose to venture into all branches of writing and development of human emotion. The psychology around this issue is important to me, as well as a well thought out plot.

I realized my writing style has changed from the first chapter. I've been giving Arthur more lines than making Al repeat them... I'm not sure why I'm doing this. Let me know if this is no where as good as the first one, because then I'd like to fix it. I hate writing something good, then disappointing people in the later chapters with my writing.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. (No duh.)

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I turned in my sleep as light blared through my closed eyes, clenching them shut in discomfort. My bed moved beneath me so I shifted, blinking up at the figure on my bed. "Arthur?" He smiled, running his hand over my cheek.

"I wanted to show you something." He pulled me into his lap and wrapped his arms around my waist. I looked at him curiously and leaned into the soft hand running through my hair. "Do you remember that very special thing we did together during my last visit?" He spoke calmly and I shook my head no, unable to recall anything special. "Something special we did_here._" A hand reached lower, squeezing my backside, running a finger over the crease, pressing against _that place. _I squeaked, nodding with a furious blush. I wasn't sure what had overcome me and why my face glowed such a color, but I couldn't help myself.

He smiled sweetly, rubbing at that spot and I squirmed, wanting him to stop. "You can't tell anyone about that Alfred. It was a special way for me to show you I love you."

"But then why can't I-" I was cut off by an especially firm rub and a stern look from Arthur. "Yes sir." I chewed on my lip nervously, hoping he wouldn't want to do that again. He simply started smiling again, paying way too much attention to my butt. I could feel it start to go numb under the constant pressure.

I gnawed on my bottom lip, feeling butterflies in my stomach despite myself. Arthur...he loved me.. he was showing his love for me... and I couldn't help myself from glorifying the memory; not looking back on it with such hurt, but instead with a new light of love. I nodded in understanding and he smiled at me lovingly, kissing my forehead gently.

"Would you like to try it again?" His voice was tight in a desperate attempt to keep us both calm. "We don't have to do it here," There was more pressure and I whimpered. "There are other places, where it won't hurt so much." His tone was soothing and sweet, the same voice that lulled me into a countless amount of false securities and scarring facades, but still, I nodded; willing to do anything he wanted.

He smiled, pulling off my nightshirt. He ran his thumb over my bottom lip, grabbing my chin gently, pressing his lips to mine. I remember them being soft, soft like someone who was drinking tea everyday, because I knew he was. It was odd...but pleasant, so I just let him do it. He pulled back, telling me that was another way he could show me his affection...

Again, this too was a secret. He pulled me back into another kiss and my body laid lax against the sheets. His tongue slipped along my bottom lip and I gasped, giving him the opportunity to plunge his tongue into my mouth. I struggled not to bite, fighting against my urge to make it stop, to push him away. I mentally kicked myself; how could I be so selfish? Arthur was showing me his love. This was supposed to be my reward for being good, and I was ruining it.

I calmed myself, letting him do what he wanted, licking and sucking, pushing against my smaller tongue, urging it to play. I tried, moving it against his softly. Apparently, I was doing it right, because he pulled me closer, but soon I was pushing against him for air. He let me go and I breathed deeply, sucking in as much air as I could, feeling like the cigarette was back in my mouth.

He lifted me back up, putting me in his lap. His lips pressed against my neck and I bit my lip, that feeling creeping into my stomach again. I fought against it, struggling to keep still. He kissed my behind my ear and I giggled, that feeling in my tummy changing. I felt bubbly all of a sudden, and happy. He kissed there again and I squirmed and giggled, realising it was tickilish. I felt him smile against my skin, kissing and licking there. I continued to giggle and squirm, in a much better mood, loving the feeling as I twisted my hands in his hair. He pulled away slowly, untangling my hands from his hair.

I pouted at him and he merely laughed, knowing that the act was getting more mutual with every passing second. I finger ran across my bottom lip and I braced myself to be kissed again. Instead I felt the finger push my lips apart, pressing on my tongue. Saliva pooled there and I struggled to not pull away, wanting it out. He pulled the now slick finger from my mouth, running it along my lips, making them moist and slippery.

"Alfred, if we use _this_, it won't hurt. would you use this Alfie?" I felt my heart skip a beat. He rarely called me Alfie, but it was one of my favorite nicknames he had for me, it always made me feel so special. I nodded, unsure what he meant by 'using' it. I watched as he unzipped his pants, pulling out his manhood, which was already half hard. I looked at it uncomfortably, feeling tears well in my eyes as I remembered how he had hurt me with it, penetrating me making me bleed and hurt all over.

He smiled sweetly, running his hand down my cheek. His hand made slow circles before grabbing the back of my head, pushing me down toward his member. I tried to move away, but I was held firmly as it rubbed against my cheek. "Now, you did well not biting the cigarette, can I trust you to do the same now?" I looked up at him with wide eyes, finally connecting that he wanted to use my mouth for a reason that still escaped me at that age. "Remember all those lollipops and treats I brought you? I want you to do the same thing now, like it's a lollipop."

My mind flashed back to when I was a bit younger. When Arthur had bought me a rather large lollipop ad I spent an entire day licking it. I remember how he stared at me, not knowing why, but too afraid to ask in case it made him angry. Though now...I was quite sure why.

I nodded slowly, licking the head experimentally, unsure what to do. It tasted funny...like soap. Like that soap Arthur always tried to get me to use during bath time. Ick. Bathes. Who wants to get clean just to get dirty again? And then soap would get in your eyes and mouth...and it tasted icky. That was the familiar taste I had in my mouth. But, none the less, I licked again, my tongue pressing into the slit by accident. He moaned at this, so I guessed that it felt good, and did it again, lapping at it with more pressure each time. He groaned and moaned, muttering about how I was doing a good job.

Eager to please him, and show him I could love him too, I ran my tongue over the underside, trailing a vain. He groaned again and I was happy I could please him. I thought for a long moment, absentmindedly licking. This was like a lollipop...a very odd tasting lollipop...right? So I tested my theory, wrapping my small hands around it and sucked the head into my mouth. He emitted a strange sound, so I figured it was good, sucking more, trying to fit a bit more into my mouth. I took in another bit, feeling the tip hit the back of my throat. My mouth was still nowhere near big enough to take him in, and my attempt was futile, merely causing me to tear up.

He seemed to like it though, as he mumbled my name and gripped the bedsheets. I licked the slit again, knowing he liked that spot the best, and earned myself a load moan. I pulled back, lapping at that spot again, being edged on by his soft words of encouragements and breathy moans. I nibbled on his length lightly, sucking and licking with an inexperienced mouth, trying desperately to show Arthur I loved him as he had tried to do before. I licked at the tip relentlessly, understanding that it brought him pleasure, and with some encouragements, I took it back into my mouth.

Soon though, I felt my head being yanked back gently by my hair. He told me to open my mouth, and, being a good little colony, I obeyed his orders. I opened my mouth as wide as I could, my eyes starting to squint from being pushed up by my cheeks. He moved my hands back to his length, moving them so they rubbed over the now saliva slick area. It was mere inches from my face and looked up to watch as he grunted and moaned loudly. Soon, strings of white covered my face and spewed into my mouth. I was displeased to find a lot of it had landed in my mouth, since it tasted awful, but before I could even think to spit it out, strong hands had my mouth closed tightly. I was instructed to swallow, so I did, the fluid slipping down my throat.

It landed in my stomach and my whole body protested to it, screaming at me to throw it up, NOW. I didn't though. I held it down like I held down his cooking so many times before. He smiled at me, running a hand through my now sticky hair. I wiped my face into my arm, the substance rubbing off onto it.

He lifted me up with ease, carrying me to the bathroom and drawing a bath. I could help but grimace...more soap in my mouth. He spent the time telling me how good I did, how much he loved me, how I was such a good boy. I didn't quite understand him, confusion straining my face as he washed my hair. Arthur never said such kind things to me, I must really have done a good job. It made me proud, but I couldn't help but be sad that no one else could know. That this love would always have to be our little secret, and I wasn't allowed to telll anyone the secrets we shared.

So, I lulled back into a deep sleep, tired. I smiled in my sleep, so proud at how good I had done. I had learned to smoke, and I was going to be very good at it, so Arthur would notice and be proud of me too; and I made Arthur happy. I didn't quite understand how having someone's mouth on that area could feel good, or even what that yucky white stuff I had to drink was, but it made Arthur happy, and it didn't hurt me, and that was all that mattered.

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Reviews make me happy and please keep them tasteful.


	5. Light My Fire

Disclaimer. I don't own Hetalia. Meh. Please read, review, and continue being awesome.

Thanks guys for all the awesome reviews, and the fact that people are following this story is by far the coolest thing ever, so thanks~ :D

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I sat on the stoop, smoking my third cigarette of the day. The sun was still high in the sky and I could tell it was barely noon. It had only taken a matter of days for me to become dependent on the awful thing. They burned my throat and left a horrid taste in my mouth, but I couldn't stop. I _needed_ them...

Needed them like I needed Arthur- an addiction; something I could never live without. Just another thing I couldn't live without.

I hugged my coat tighter to me, the chill of the fall getting worse each day. It was almost winter, and soon the snow would fall.

I stood, putting out the cigarette and wiping off my pants. Arthur would be angry if I tracked dirt into the house.

He stayed a while this time, not leaving for several weeks. The days dragged on as I had developed what seemed to be a perpetual limp. Everyday was another beating, each more brutal than the last. I would fall over nearly everyday, breaking things as my eyes grew worse. Everyday seemed to be a battle to complete my daily tasks, trying not to hit anything or get in trouble with Arthur. My limp continued and I fought myself pretend nothing was wrong.

I walked inside, making some tea to warm my chilled body (since I wasn't allowed to have coffee, and could never sneak it under his watchful eye) I sat at the table, taking small sips, letting the liquid warm my body. I watched over my cup as Arthur walked through the door, hanging up his coat, and walking into the kitchen; his posture reflecting the proper gentleman he was. He sat down at the table and I smiled at him hopefully. "Welcome home! How was your day?" I greeted him lovingly, praying he was in a good mood today.

"Good." He replied coldly. He casually flipped through a book I had left on the table, clearly becoming annoyed by it. It was written in the colonies and made me smile; the idealistic themes portrayed always seemed to amuse my. The placid expression on his face was only under toned with malice and distaste, proving to me he didn't like the book very much. "Make me tea, would you boy?" He asked rather politely, though I knew it was an order.

So I stood, placing down my own tea cup as I prepared his. I placed it in front of him obediently, and a soft hand ruffling my hair told me I did a good job. I quickly moved back to my seat, sipping at my tea timidly, wanting to keep his good mood in tack.

"Alfred, do you believe this rubbish?" He looked at me with genuine curiosity and I returned it with one of excitement.

"Well, no, of course not. But it's interesting, isn't it? I mean, this guy's ideas. He-" I was cut off as I felt a hard cover bash into my cheek, lashing my head to the opposite side.

"There will be _none_ of this kind of talk, understand me boy?" With that, he walked over to the stove, moving the tea kettle and lighting it back up. He held the book over the small flame until it too took fire, and he dropped it as the hardcover began to flicker and light, it's detailed lettering charring. I watched as my favorite book burned, and Arthur sat back down, calmly sipping his tea.

"M-my book..." I unconsciously spoke, regretting it instantly as a tear slipped down my face. An eyebrow was raised at me before anger flicked through them, a chair screeching against he floor as it was pushed back. Suddenly he was standing next to me, yanking me up by my arm, and leading me toward the stove. My book lay in ashes, merely a small glimmer in the flame. My arm was held securely over the fire until I screamed in pain, wretching my arm away desperately. Another hit was landed across my face and I felt the cold wall hit my back.

I sunk to the floor, sobbing silently as he loomed over me. "Alfred, I will hold you over that flame until you learn to bite your tounge and just listen." Another yank to my arm. He held the arm without burns over the flame, and I cried as the skin blistered away. He pulled my arm away swiftly, dropping it. "You can treat yourself." And with that, he once more strode out of the room, taking his tea cup with him.

I sunk back to the floor, cradling my arm in my opposite hand, crying softly as I listened to the small flickering of the still burning stove.

I stood back up on shaky legs, running my arm under cold water before wrapping it.

This would be a reminder to choose my reading materials more carefully. It was clear Arthur didn't want me to read anything that would harm me later. I mean, Arthur always had my best interest at heart, so next time I would merely have to be more careful with what I chose to read. After all, Arthur was always looking out for me, I should return his generous love.

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Short Chapter is short.


	6. Kisses and Scars

Hey guys~ Thanks for reading.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia

Author's Note: If you've made it thus far, you know the deal. Abuse, pedophilia, other things that should never be practiced in one's lifetime.

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I laid on my bed, a small candle flickering as empty eyes stared back at me. The little mirror held a reflection of myself, one I didn't care to see. I was ugly, littered with scars and bruises. I tore my eyes from the shameful image, banishing it from my mind.

I held my arm up, letting the candle illuminate it. The fresh burns shone red and black in the dim light; bruises fusing with new, raw skin. This was ugly too. Not good enough, never good enough, not for Arthur. Not for my beautiful, perfect Arthur.

I closed my eyes, my blurry vision troubling me. I hugged the hurting arm to my chest, laying soft kiss on the forearm. No, it was ugly. So very ugly. But that didn't matter, because Arthur loved me anyway. He still didn't find my scared body disgusting, he still wanted to touch it, to stay with me...he still loved me.

Footsteps echoed through the hall with an eerie resonance. I quickly turned, blowing out the candle, and flipping over as I pulled the blanket over me, feigning sleep.

The creak of my door nearly made me jump, but I willed myself to stay still, my eyes clenched shut as the footsteps became louder, closer. A hand ran through my hair and I heard my breath hitch, a nervous feeling making my stomach hurt.

"I know you're not sleeping." His voice was calm and level, but my eyes shot open, fear striking through them. Soon enough they glazed back over, the hand in my hair having a calming affect. I sighed softly, contently.

"I'm sorry Arthur, I wasn't tired." His hand continued it's movements, sending pleasant tingles up my spine, causing me to shiver. It was...nice. To say the least. I loved when Arthur was gentle with me, adored the way he stroked my hair, looked at me with loving eyes, told me sweet things. I loved it. It always made me submit, no matter what it was, no matter what he wanted. And he always wanted something...always. This kindness had a price, one I was never told, and in my submissive haze, allowed completely. I was okay with it, content even. As long as I was allowed this kindness, this moment of bliss.

"I would like to reward you again." His hand already had me hypnotized, I could barely make out his words. "Would you like that, Alfie?" My breath hitched and I let out a small noise. What it was, I'll never know, but somewhere, between a moan and a whimper, I unconsciously agreed, my head nodding before I could even think about what my rewards had been.

Covers were soon torn off of me and Arthur seemed to loom over me, his presence suddenly worrying me.

He smiled sweetly, letting his lips press to my forehead and his hand continue to move. Just like always, my nightshirt was pulled over my head, my shorts tugged off.

This had seemed to become a ritual for us. Sometimes, during the night, Arthur would slip in, merely rip my clothes from me, and stare before redressing me. I could never understand why he did it. Was he angry? No. His eyes were to giddy, to pleasure filled for it to be an angry lash. He was staring, staring at the ugliness of my scars, but still, he stood by me...maybe he would do that to reassure me, maybe to humiliate me, maybe to confuse me beyond all reason so that I clung to him for dear life...and like a fool, I always did.

Hands ran down my sides, and I sighed, the tension releasing from my body. His soft hands were something I loved about him. He stared at my body, as if taking it all in. His lips pressed to mine, the taste of smoke and tea lingering between them. I let him kiss me, giving in and earning a satisfied purr as I kissed back, moving my lips against his. He pulled back again, stopping to look me over.

"S-stop it...it's ugly..." I regretted it before the words even left my lips, the unconscious thought gnawing away at me. I chewed my bottom lip, avoiding the shocked expression his face.

"You are not." A kiss on my forehead. "Your reward today will be for me to prove that." His lips were on mine again. I was taken by surprise, the pure shock of that statement made blood rush to my cheeks and my veins run cold. His lips moved from mine, and I quickly felt them on my neck. He was kissing there, his tongue flicking out occasionally, as if to sooth the already healed cuts. They moved to the sensitive area behind my ear and I giggled, squirming at the giddy feeling it gave me. His tongue darted out, followed by his teeth, letting them graze the sensitive skin.

I let out a new noise, something foreign to me, and he did it again. My voice did the same and confusion stayed plastered on my face, I didn't understand why I had made such a sound, or why I wanted to make it more, the reasoning behind it still foreign to me.

He smiled and moved on, kissing down an arm, making sure to pay attention to every single bruise or cut, making sure his soft lips were allowed a taste before moving to my other arm. He moved to my chest, kissing softly before sucking a nipple into his mouth, sucking gently on it until he coaxed a moan from me, more confusion flashing over my features. He gave the other the same treatment, more odd sounds slurring from my lips.

"Alfred, those sounds are good. They mean you enjoy what I'm doing. Your body is telling you it enjoys the attention." I nodded, still not sure what that even meant. His lips moved down my stomach, the wet trail making me shiver as the chilled air hit it. Soon, kisses went down my legs, only stopping to kiss and lick the back of my knee, where I seemed to make the most noise. He kept his mouth there, simply sucking and my leg spasmed, kicking and twitching as a slur of moans and whimpers passed through my lips.

He kissed his way up my thighs, stopping at my member. I stared down at him, unsure of what his intentions were, or why he had stopped at such a vulgar place. He leaned down and kissed there too, eliciting a small whimper from me. It reminded me of the time before, months earlier, when I had done something similar to him. I remembered the sounds he made, and that awful white liquid, and suddenly I was scared. I couldn't find my reasoning for it, but it scared me, absolutely terrified me.

I willed myself to stay still, watching as he kissed it again, his head lowering to take it in his mouth. He began to suck, moving his head in an obscene way that seemed to swallow me whole and slowly allow me the release of freedom before taking me again. I whimpered and groaned, thrashing my head as my body sent me mixed signals. He pulled back and replaced his mouth with his hand, meeting my hips as my unconscious movements met the jerking motion of his hand, bringing me to a bliss filled land of white.

Something overcame me and my whole body shook, convulsing and spasming under Arthur's touch. The euphoria overtook me and I practically screamed, unsure what was happening to my body. Arthur smiled down at me, kissing my lips as I stared at the ceiling in dazed confusion. "That, my boy, is what happens when a man's body feels extremely good. He will get those feelings so long as one who loves him stimulates him here." His hand wrapped around my manhood for emphasis, making me gasp.

"B-but...the white liquid..." His smile broadened as he realized what I meant, chuckling lightly.

"You won't be able to release that until you are a bit older Alfred, you are still but a child." I nodded, and with a satisfied smile, he pulled my nightshirt back over my head, tugged up my shorts, and placed a tender kiss on my forehead before slipping out of the room, as he had so many times before. I heard him say something about getting...sheep maybe? Maybe he wanted me to get some sheep... but I was too tired to care, my weary body relaxing against the sheets as I drifted off to sleep; thinking about my wonderful, perfect, loving Arthur.

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l have all these plot ideas that I'm not sure how to mold into a story. (Also, something about getting sheep. That would be, something about getting _sleep_, not literal sheep. I had someone ask me that)


	7. Dreams and Darkness Part 1

Warning: Pedophilia, abuse.

Disclaimer: Hetalia does not belong to me...I know because I had to pay for the dvd. -_- lol

A/N: Hey, this chapter is short, but because it is only part one. I could not get the whole thing done, so I'll upload a part two either tomorrow or the day after.

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My days passed by slowly, the cuts accumulating on my body. My body was numb, the beatings barely even a noticeable part of my day. My body and mind ached, my only relief being the depths of sleep.

Sometimes, sleep wouldn't even bless me, instead being indulged in our nightly ritual. The cold air would shock my body, hungry eyes staring at it with greed. I lay, staring at that spot of blood with a glazed over expression, willing my body to accept the cold, the eyes, to lie still.

Hands grazed over me softly. I twitched, my body lying still once more as I heard chuckling somewhere in the distance; but I paid it no mind, hoping the euphoria of unconsciousness would claim me.

It never did, and I stayed in a numb haze, letting him "appreciate" my body, as he now so often did, that spot of blood constantly mocking me. I still couldn't reach it, but by now it didn't matter, it was already a permanent stain on the wall. My shirt slipped back on my body, and lips pressed to my forehead. My eyes sealed shut, and finally I was gone; lost in a sea of nightmares, so lost that it was almost pleasurable.

The day came too fast, light streaming through my window as the scent of tea and scones filled my nostrils. I trudged through the house, worn and tired, seeking out the smell. I can't say it smelled good, by no stretch of the imagination did scones seem like a pleasant way to start my day; but the scent was familiar, a relief to my tired body and mind.

I sat at the table, allowing myself to relax against the chair, tea and a rather burnt scone placed in front of me. I shot him a grateful smile, too out of it to do much else.

A warm hand ruffled my hair, petting my head in an almost fatherly fashion. I melted into it, my blood shot eyes closing in an almost appreciative manner, loving the contact. Something about it always made me feel better. Perhaps because there were little ways he could hurt me there, maybe because I was sensitive, but I couldn't help always finding it wonderful. The loving, protective way he did it made me trust him completely.

He smiled down at me, and I ate the whole scone as a "thank you". Needless to say, I was eating it either way, but the thought of having the charred, crumbled substance shoved down my throat made me shudder. Swallow it with a swig of tea, then if you're lucky, you don't taste it.

Another kiss to the top of my head, and the Brit was out the door, leaving me confused, but happy.

My day went on undisterbed, Arthur seemed to have disappeared. I vaguely wondered where he had gone, but allowed myself the pure bliss of being alone, the peaceful silence encasing me.

I let myself drift off on the couch, sleeping gratefully through most of the afternoon. I can't remember a dream.

I remember once, the ladies in town told me little boys dream, said they dreamed of sports, and girls, and even sweets. I never did, there was never any sports, any girls, any sweets. Those kinds of ideals never blessed my dreams; it was merely me. Me, falling. Me, falling into the darkness. I just fell. Fell and fell and fell...and it was almost peaceful, a relief. It was a pleasant escape, and sometimes, I'd wish it were true.

I could just jump, and fall...and fall...and fallandfallandfallandfall...

And there would never be a bottom. I'd be left to myself, and my thoughts.

Andeverythingwouldbepeaceful 

and I'd be gone...gonegonegonegonegone.

...but I couldn't do thtat. No, not to Arthur. Not to my beloved Arthur. How could I leave him? After he's "fed" me, clothed me, took care of me, always protected me. The thought itself was horrific. My beloved Arthur.

My thoughts ended with a familiar slam; the abrupt opening of my door waking me up, quickly bringing me out of my darkness and back to the dull light of reality. I yawned and smiled. "Welcome home Arthur."

No response.

He walked through the house with haste, closing himself in his room. He stayed there for the rest of the evening, allowing me to make my own dinner (luckily), and I did.

For the first time in weeks I realised how lonely it was to eat alone... Of course, it had it's advantages, I can't say I didn't enjoy my sweets. I knew it would have been trouble if he found me eating them.

The night went on as usual, and I resided in my room, yawning as I laid down for the rest of the night.

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Good night, and may your dreams be nightmare free.


	8. Dreams and Darkness Part 2

Hey guys! Thanks for all the reviews, I really appreciate it and am so glad people are enjoying my story.

Disclaimer: ...do not own...again, had to pay for dvd, it'd suck if I did own it and had to pay for a dvd.

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The bed shifted and in my state of deep sleep, I let it pass. I curled up to something warm, a comforting feeling on the cold fall night. A familiar laugh shocked me into consciousness as I realized my arms were wrapped around Arthur's waist, my body curled around the curve of his hips as he sat at the end of my bed.

A blush overcame my face and I jerked my arms back, only to have them held in place by larger hands. "No, it's fine to stay like this." I nodded, resting in that position as he stroked my hair.

I drifted back off to sleep, letting him tug off my clothes in the comfortable state. "It's not time for sleep Al." I blinked up at him, wondering why I needed to stay awake at such a late hour.

I shivered, but not because of the cold, but the sickeningly sweet look in his eyes. Something about it was dangerous... like he was hunting.

"I-I'm sorry Arthur." I watched him with weary eyes, blinking up at him as a soft kiss was pressed to my forehead, hands moving down my body. It was something that happened almost every night, our ritual, but something about it was different, so different usual, but I didn't know why.

He brushed some hair out of my face, smiling in a way I couldn't quite figure out. And that's when it happened.

"Can I show you my love here?" A hand snaked it's way down to my butt, squeezing firmly. I gasped, quickly shaking my head on, remembering how badly it had hurt. "It'll be okay, I won't hurt you, I promise." A hand in my hair again. My no slowly turned to a yes somewhere beyond my awareness and his smile grew warmer, lips attaching to my chest.

I groaned, tangling my hands in his hair. I remembered when this made my vision go white and my mind go blank, and I tried to get back to that place, mewling soft encouragements.

He pressed fingers to my lips and I gave him a quizzical look. He told me to suck, told me it would hurt if I didn't. So I took them into my mouth, wrapping my tongue around them, sucking and lapping at them, desperately trying to find the blinding white.

This time he groaned, that strange look in his eyes only getting stranger. He pulled them out quickly, a string of saliva dripping down my chin as he broke the strand connecting my mouth to his fingers.

They trailed down my chest, past my stomach, and crawled down my groin, moving slowly to my backside. My body tensed, waiting in tense apprehension, but he told me not to tense. Told me to relax. So I did, my small body visibly more relaxed as I allowed the tension to leave my body. Immediately pain washed over me, something long and thin penetrating me. His finger. I remembered this from last time, remembering the awful feeling.

Another finger pressed into me and I whined, tears threatening to fall. They spread apart and I could feel myself being stretched, my back arching against my will. he kissed my forehead, fingers moving jaggedly until I screamed. I found that white place again, but it only flashed into my vision, not nearly as long as the last time. I looked at Arthur pleadingly, the pleasure blinding my to anything else. His hand jerked again and the white was back...again...again...againagainagain and everything went white, It lasted longer, satisfyingly, wonderfully.

My body laid completely lack in a state of pure bliss, my first orgasm induced by such play left my body worn. Too soon I screamed again, not in pleasure, but in desperate pain. Something larger than fingers had begun to press into me and I thrashed my head, tears streaming down my face. He shushed me, cooing softly and placing kisses on any piece of flesh he could find.

He began to pull back out, and I didn't even bother to protest, my 'no's and pleas for him to stop tangled in my moans, as I knew he would surely just push back in. And he did. Over and over, the searing pain overwhelming my body as it twitched and moved with him. My back arched and my hips jerked, none of it by the will of my mind.

A hand was back in my hair and my eyes closed unconsciously at the gesture, a sharp cry tearing through my body as something inside me was struck. It was that place again. The one I knew would bring me back to the white; and it was so good. So perfect and wonderful, so pleasurable...enough to block out the pain. He struck it again and I couldn't control the slur of pleas passing my lips, something about it was just so wonderful that my body demanded more, the pain my mind knew I was feeling got completely blocked out, over powered by something else.

I let it bring me back to that white place. I let it take control of me again, the blinding pleasure bringing me back there. Somewhere in the distance there was a groan, and in front of me, there was spot of red. Just out of my reach it stained my white little wonderland, pulling me back into the reality of what was happening. My backside was suddenly sore, my hips aching, and something warm and sticky was dripping down my thighs.

I woke up, not remembering when I had gone to sleep. My everything hurt, every part of my body. It was a stinging, yet numb pain, and I didn't dare to move, knowing it would just pain me. I was lying on my back, that same fluffy pillow that had always graced my bed against my head, cushioning the one part of my body that seemed to hurt the most. The piercing headache must have come from thinking, I had apparently done some serious dreaming.

I wish I could remember it, the only memorable part seeming to be that haunting little image, a stain that pierced through the dream, if only for a while, but none of the thoughts I pondered seemed to be there, everything seemed to be hazy. I sighed, laying back on my pillows and counting the pictures strewn around the room, the number of candles, the grain of my floor, anything to keep my quickly numbing mind occupied. It seemed I wouldn't be joining Arthur for breakfast.

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So I want to throw in all of these ideas I have to develop Alfred's emotions and mindset, and the mind tricks he's playing on himself, but I have so litle time to right.


	9. The French & the Indians& the Brittish

Disclaimer: We've established I don't own APH.

Author's Note: I just jammed on my keyboard randomly for the French, it's not supposed to make sense, the point is that it doesn't. If I actually managed to get a real French word in there, I think I deserve a pat on the back..

Anyway, enjoy.

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"You git! I would never! With a mere child! He is but a boy!" Arthur huffed, steaming in anger. The man muttered something in a foreign language that I couldn't understand, and kissed his cheek. "I'm going to go blow a fag." He pushed his way past the Frenchman and sat on the porch; the smell of a burning cigarette potent in the air.

The attention was turned to me then, a casual grin flashing my way. I cringed inwardly, but I regarded him coldly, not really wanting to see him.

He spoke in a different language, one that always sounded persuasive, no matter what you were saying. It was annoying, like he was trying to get you to do something all the time; and you never knew what. His voice was almost like a physical caress, one that made you shudder and flinch away. I only ever registered half of what he said, ignoring everything in the foreign language.

He left for much longer periods of time, and the over the top amount of love he showed me, made me sick. I was never sure why I resented him so much. No, I was. His love made me sick, made me ill with hate, annoyance, jealousy. Yes...No...It had to be that. That had to be the reason for it. The love, the affection, everything he was to Arthur, everything he was to Mattie. Everything. I couldn't stand it, the way he showed me affection. It was affection I never got from Arthur, and every little exposure made me greedy...made me angry. Made me want such love from Arthur, made me long for it more.

I kept a cold distance to Francis, apparently too caught up in this mantra to even notice he had already made his way over to me.

His hand on my shoulder made me flinch, and I shot him a glare. A false hurt flashed across his face, and soon enough he was putting hair from my face, that grin continuously plastered on his.

"Sit and talk, non?~" And then there was something in French, which I missed, like so many times before.

I let him pull me to the porch with no protests. Arthur was no where to be found, I guess I had assumed he had gone to buy more cigarettes. I found myself being seated on the step, and more slurs of French spoken to me. I kept myself quiet as I felt his hands through my hair, not used to the feeling from hands other than Arthur's. He began humming softly, and I momentarily wondered what the tune was, but ignored as when he started singing, it was in French...something about a salamander? I'm not entirely sure. For some reason, I had started to daze off again.

I quickly snapped back into reality as his words slowly morphed back to English, but I couldn't quite focus, my brain still muddled with confusion as I realized the effect his hand was having on me. His hand shifted to my neck and my breath hitched; my whole body rigid in a pure feeling of nervous. His finger traced a small scar on the back of my neck and my eyes widened, pain flooding my brain as my body remained still.

His hand stayed there and I heard him say more, ignoring it because I believed it to be in French. Another repeat and I realized it was English, it had been English the whole time. He repeated himself, more slowly, as the finger continued to trail the small scar.

"Where did you get this-rtybku?" More French that didn't register. Just random muddled sounds that didn't seem to make sense.

I smiled lifelessly, no real meaning behind it. How could there be, how, when speaking to this man?

"Where? When I was playing in the leaves. There are sharp sticks in the piles. Arthur tried to warn me, but I didn't listen."

Yes, Arthur had warned me of something that day, only, I wish I could remember what he had warned me about. I had screwed up, again. I wasn't sure how, but I just know I had to have, otherwise Arthur wouldn't have hit me hard enough to let it scar like that. He was always so forgiving, I vaguely still wondered how bad I had been that day to deserve the scar.

He smile quickly turned to a small frown, and his hand ran through my hair again. I froze, eyes closing as I drew in a sharp breath.

"Are you sure that is how you got this scar, peopit?" More French words that didn't register. His finger ran across it again and I bit my lip, desperate to keep my sanity in it's place, and him out of my business. "You are left here with Arthur alone for days...weeks...and I noticed you are not walking very straight, monpoet..."

More words I didn't understand.

"...could it be perhaps your eyesight is failing you?"

I turned and smacked his hand away from me. He had been here for mere hours, and he was already in my business?

"Are you saying Arthur has been hurting me?" I yelled. I finally understood why Arthur never wanted me alone with him. He was terrible, trying to suggest that Arthur would just...hurt me.

"Calm down, rtiyu." More of that damned French. "I was only asking, I do not mean to imply anything about our dear Arthur. I only wanted to be sure of your saftey."

He tugged on my arm, trying to get me to sit back down, but I refused, wrenching my arm away. "I am perfectly safe." I gritted the words out through clenched teeth, furious that he could believe Arthur was hurting me. Any time Arthur had touched me, it was for my own good.

Reward and punishment. Arthur followed these rules, and it was my fault which I got, every time. He had no right to accuse Arthur of anything, and the fact that he would made me boil over with such anger, I couldn't even fathom it.

He had been right about one thing though. My eyesight. It wasn't any good, and I was struggling to see straight, to walk, to do my basic tasks.

Like storming away in anger.

I tasted blood, and felt would against my cheek, then my arm, my chest, my stomach, my leg, every part of me hit the stairs as I crumbled downward; cursing myself for not being able to make out the distance the stairs had been from me.

I vaguely heard screaming, though I wasn't sure from whom. My own thoughts became muddled with a thick French accent, only to be overthrown by that of a very angry Englishman...when had Arthur even arrived?

A red spot flashed before my eyes before the opened quickly in fear, only to discover it was merely the spot of blood on my wall. The one I was too small to reach. I sighed, leaning back against my pillow, the same one that never seemed to lose it's fluff.

It took several seconds for me to register that I was in my bed, instead of out on the porch with Francis.

I stayed still, realizing that was my best option, only turning my head when I heard the door creak open, Arthur's frame slowly coming into focus.

"Alfred?" The sound of his voice made me smile, and it didn't go unnoticed, the man quickly coming to my bedside and kissing my forehead. "Alfred, I have news."

My head tilted in confusion, what knews could there have possibly been for me?

"We're going to war Alfie." My heart melted at my nickname, the thought of war lost in the warm feeling. He followed with something about France rallying indians. Something about why we needed to go to war.

I didn't care, I'd support Arthur any way I could of course, and I would fight for him if he needed me to. "...I can't let him hurt you again...so I'm making him leave here forever."

That was all I caught before I drifted back to sleep, my whole body hurt, and my body just lulled into sleep without my knowledge to rest it. I knew I was going to war with France, and that's all the orders I needed if they were coming from Arthur.


	10. Pull The Trigger

Ok, I'm so so so so so so sorry I haven't updated in almost a month. I got caught up in some very bad things, and this month has honestly been emotional turmoil for me. I'm so sorry. I would give specifics, but well, I'm obviously not comfortable announcing my personal issues on the internet. (that shit will come back to you.)

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or it's characters. This is purely fan made.

Warning: There is honestly nothing really bad in this chapter.

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I lied in my bed, staring at the ceiling.

_War with France, war with France, war with France..._

The words replayed in my head like a mantra. The idea was so insane. That man was going to war? The guy who was always spreading "love" to people? I couldn't wrap my head around it.

I rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands, an exasperated sigh softly escaping my lips.

I got out of bed for the first time in days, having not found the will, or the power to get up.

I wandered unconsciously to the kitchen, my stomach leading my feet.

Arthur was at the table, sipping tea and reading letters. The confusion and talk of war from days past seemed to be gone, as if it had never been declared.

I don't really remember much of that day; maybe because I was still so little, maybe because I was so tired, or _maybe because I didn't want to._

The next day went by quickly, Arthur was so preoccupied with preparing for war, he barely noticed I was around. Which was good for me I suppose.

Until the next day came.

My hands trembled as I held the gun; smooth wood and cold metal in my unsteady grip.

* * *

It had been a week since that time, and soon the hectic-ness of war had consumed my time, busying myself amoung soldiers and colonists. I held my gun tighter, fretting because I found myself unable to pull the trigger.

"Pull the trigger. Be a man." The words replayed in my head, whether they belonged to myself or Arthur- I'll never know. Something about it wasn't right, I couldn't pull the trigger, I just couldn't.

It was always so curious, how innocent i was. How ignorant. How there were always slaves working my plantations, England taking my resources, _my_ people pushing for more lanf, pushing for expansion, for the French to be gone. And I couldn't pull the trigger.

Arthur grabbed my gun a mere second later, saying how disgraceful my behavior was. He quickly sent me to my room, something I was expecting. What use was a soldier who couldn't even shoot a gun...who couldn't even see straight?

I sat on my bed, watching, admiring the world outside. This was what war looked like.

The French had recruited the Indians- a barbarian people who inhabited the land there. I wasn't allowed near them, Arthur always said they were "only to be dealt with when war arises." And war as arisen, several times.

I waited like that for hours, not budging until a very disgruntled Arthur walked through the door.

I smiled and welcomed him home, but his mind was elsewhere.

His eyes seemed glazed over as he watched me, walking over to me swiftly.

Knuckles drove into my cheek as my head whipped to the side; a harsh back hand slap sending me reeling. Something i was expecting.

"Don't behave like that tomorrow."

With that, he was gone once more, back to his room.

That night, and the several that followed, our nightly rituasl was abandoned.


	11. Shot

AN: Ok, so again, a long gap between chapter updates. I swear this is not on purpose, I'm just so busy with school and such, I can't keep up with the fics on this account, or on my other 2. I have some very angry readers at the moment. ^^;; Anyways, again, it's a bit short, I apologize. It's most likely because I wrote this at about 1:30 am.

side note: you know I'm American because I almost wrote "spilt" instead of "spilled"

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia

Warning: Not much really, just some mild violence. Barely descriptive.

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I weaved through the crowd, musket in hand. My ears were numb to the sound of bullets whizzing past them.

Men were dropping like flies, lying in pools of their own blood, as others stepped around and over them. Occasionally, someone would stop to help a fallen friend as he writhed and gasped for air, a futile attempt as he bled out.

I ran ahead, pushing past enemy and ally alike. My heart was beating out of my chest- I was disobeying Arthur. It was...

crazy...

dangerous...

risky.

I wanted to find France. If he would just give up the land, then all this fighting could end. Arthur wouldn't be in harm's way anymore.

I ran until I spotted blond hair, slowing down to a walk and raising my hand to wave.

Familiar voices argued, in a strange mix of accents and grunts, blood splattered vegetation idealizing the scene.

I ducked in a bush, hidden from their tired eyes. There was screaming in a language I still didn't understand.

And finally, I saw Arthur lunge.

It was an almost beautiful sight, the way he was defending my home...me.

For some reason, I was overwhelmed with joy, so I didn't intervene when blood was spilled.

Punches were being thrown, the fight escalating in violence. I watched in pure amazement, mesmerized. I was only freed from the dellusion when I felt blood as it trickled down my arm.

He must have been aiming for Arthur, because I fell right back into his arms.

It was later explained to me how I had jumped into the way of the shot, shielding Arthur from what would have been a deadly blow.

I woke up in my bed, so I guess I had blacked out.

The first thing that hit me was the smell of burnt vegetables; all mixed together in a watered down substance I assumed was supposed to be soup. I scrunched my nose in distaste, feeling sore and nauseous.

Blood loss, I guess.

I had no interest in eating the soup, instead more focused on the dull ache in my shoulder.

I noticed Arthur slumped in a chair on the other side of the room. Even asleep he still maintained his gentleman dignity- a certain air about him that seemed perfect in every way.

I ran over quickly, ignoring the tingling in my leg- no doubt the result of being asleep too long.

"Arthur." I was kneeling in front of him, gently pushing his leg- one hand on his knee, the other on his thigh.

"Arthur, it's time to-" and suddenly I could taste my own blood again. My head jerked to he side, my cheekbone almost vibrating from the after force of knuckles driving into it.

"What have I told you about waking me up?"

"I won't do it again sir." And with that, I went back to my soup as his firey stare watched me. As I drank the murky liquid, I contemplated when he had warned me before. I couldn't recall anu rule about not waking him up, and certainly not after I got shot protecting him.

It didn't make Arthur as proud as I hoped, and I recieved no praise before he left the room, leaving me to my soup. However, ai kne I'd do that again in a heartbeat.

Anything for my Arthur.


	12. Quartering Act

Warning: Obviously, if you have made it this far into my fanfiction, you know the reasons for it's rating.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia, nor do I want to. I'd be too lazy to run this franchise.

A/N: Ahhhh so I'm in a terrible mood. It seems to perpetuate when I'm surrounded by people I hate _and_ incredibly stupid people at the same time. I'm so filled with rage I honestly almost made Arthur beat Alfred to a bloody pulp in this chapter. But I refrained myself and saved that for a latter chapter. 3

Anyway, enjoy. Review. Thanks.

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The war soon ended, the whole ordeal forgotten. Or at least in my mind it was. France was still sore about the whole thing, but I was sure he'd get over it. I mean, he _shot_ me. I was sure he would call it even in no time.

Arthur never quite got over it either. He was always huffing and puffing about things I didn't understand...didn't really care about. Because Arthur always said it was okay.

And if Arthur said it, it HAD to be true.

They were trivial things he always said, little things, here and there. Little clauses he'd have to add to the colonial peoples' lives.

Just little things here and there.

Nothing big.

That's what they were, nothing of any real importance.

Arthur decided to stay with me a while, said he wanted to make sure I didn't do anything to embarrass him while his men were staying. I wasn't sure why the soldiers were still here. The war was over. The British troops were unnecessary. But still, Arthur was always right, so they had to be there for a reason.

That Sunday I went into town. Rather upset I had nothing in my house for breakfast-except tea and scones. (but that wasn't really...food...or edible.) I went to the market, the usual townspeople greeting me.

"My, how big you've gotten!"

"How you've grown!"

"Is that little Alfie?"

Those old women. Their voices ringed in my head. I had no idea why they insisted on mentioning my size every time I walked into town. I was not that large, still several inches shorter than Arthur- but he was a small man...At least compared to the others I had seen. I still had a lot of growing.

They must have noted it because Arthur had been getting the groceries for the last couple of weeks- he had not trusted me to get what he needed.

"Ouch!" My basket fell from my hands, my now skinned knee stinging as I glared up at the man who bumped into me. He was clad in his military uniform, his status in the British army proudly pronounced. He payed me no mind and walked away, apparently having nothing further to say to me. I picked up the spilled content of my basket, listening to the whispers and gossips from those old women.

"Did you see how he pushed poor Alfie down!"

"THIS is why we can't have those troops here!"

"Mine's eating me out of house and home!"

"I don't know how long I can afford this!"

I retrieved all of my items, hastily walking back home. I had come to a realization. I was wrong. The soldiers weren't unnecessary...they were _unwanted._

I nearly threw the basket onto the kitchen table, running to see my beloved Arthur. Surely he would understand and withdraw the troops!

"Arthur, Arthur!" I practically shouted, eager to speak to the older man about this, to prove I could be just like him and take care of my people too.

I ran into the living room, where Arthur always was- reading a book...some boring, old book about something or other. I happily trotted to his chair, both hands on the armrest of the plush furniture as I pushed myself to my tip-toes, looming of Arthur's book as he read it.

"Arthur I found something out, and I _HAVE_ to tell you."

Knuckles connected with my jaw- a rather familiar feeling. I giggled as i fell back, even though my jaw was throbbing in pain. I knew it was against the rules to run in the house. And to shout. And to bother Arthur while he was reading. But this was just so important!

He sighed- exasperated, annoyed. He closed his book with nimble fingers, book marking the page and placing the awful thing on the small table beside him.

"What is it lad?"

I felt myself smile. the ladies were wrong, I wasn't all that big. Arthur still called me lad. Still called me by a name filled with affection, something wonderful. That only I was allowed to have.

I kneeled on the ground and shot him a lopsided grin. "The ladies in town were talking."

He raised an eyebrow.

"A-and they said that it was really bad having troops in their houses! Because they're hard to take care of, a-and they can't afford it be...because of um" I scrunched my eyebrows in thought. Damn, I was so used to drowning out their voices, I nearly forgot. "B-because of taxes!" I smiled up at him, so proud that I had remembered. I was sure he'd be proud too.

Something connected with my jaw again, something much harder than a punch. As I fell back, I realized with a dull ache, that it was the sole of his shoe that hit me.

I felt myself wretch as I was kicked again, a much harder blow delivered to my stomach. Another kick.

Suddenly he was crouching over me, hair being yanked with enough force to tear some strands loose. "Alfred, you WILL NOT speak to me that way." My head was dropped with a thump as I watched the older man.

His thick eyebrows furrowed in annoyance and his eyes had a fire to them. His entire body seemed to tense with anger and suddenly his shoe met with my stomach again, the blow both swift and harsh.

"You will follow orders, and the colonists will do the same. Am I understood? I did not raise a spoiled brat! I told you it was necessary and what I say damn-well goes!"

I shifted so I was kneeling before him, nodding at him with wide eyes. His foot met my stomach again and I toppled forward, my hands on the ground to support my crumbling upper half.

I saw him lift his foot again and I cringed, expecting another blow.

Instead he went for my hand, pressing down on it as I keened in pain. Something audibly cracked and he seemed satisfied, lifting his foot and grumbling something about tea.

There was a kiss to the top of my head and suddenly he was gone, into the kitchen to drink his tea.

I cradled my injured hand and stood, stumbling awkwardly to the porch. I needed a cigarette.

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Phew, a normal length chapter. Haha took a bit, but I got it down. 3

Reviews make me smile :)


	13. Involvment

Warning: There is yaoi in this chapter.

Disclaimer: Hetalia is not mine.

A/N: None for now, read, enjoy, and review~

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I sat on the porch, smoking my third cigarette of the day. It was summer and days seemed to drag on.

I always loved the summer- and sometimes the days would pass pleasantly, I would run outside and sometimes Arthur would even join me outside- of course on the conditions that I didn't try to "roughhouse", or run, or yell.

But I was happy, it was a content existence.

I shifted, hissing as I had to lean on my broken hand.

I was sore all over and our nightly ritual had started again. It made it a bit hard to sit, but usually I couldn't distinguish it from the black and purple points of pain that littered my body.

But it was okay, I knew they weren't on purpose. I was just a bit clumsy and I broke too many rules.

Well, maybe some of them were on purpose.

I moved my hand to my chest.

Arthur said those ones were to protect me from people like France and Spain.

I was never really sure how a bunch of bruises could do that, but I wasn't going to question how Arthur protected me.

But I was thankful for the protection, since Francis was back.

He was visiting again and I couldn't understand why Arthur would even let him in the house.

I suppose it was because that's just how Arthur was. Kind, forgiving- perfect.

I put out my light, stepping on the near burnt out bud.

I stood and stretched, groaning in pain at the soreness of my muscles. I decided to go for a run, figuring it'd be good for my muscles.

I took off into a sprint, smiling as the cool air whipped passed my face.

I continued that way until I reached the harbor, sitting under a tree, simply watching the bustle of the ships.

The first thing I heard was arguing. The next was complaining and screaming.

I grudgingly opened my eyes, upset I had been woken from the apparent sleep I had fallen into. I rubbed my eyes and watched the two men fight. They were screaming something about tariffs. Something about tea. I couldn't quite make it out.

I stood and followed, for what reason, I'll never know, but they walked into a small building not too far, still arguing as the lattern out front flickered in the night's breeze.

And then I realized what time it was.

My eyes widened and I sprinted home, Arthur was to be angry for sure.

I approached the house, the front of the house dimly light as I assumed Arthur was reading.

I hurried to the door, trying to look casual as I walked in the door- looking like the guilty teenager sneaking in after curfew I was.

"Alfred."

I cringed at the coldness in his voice, I was in trouble for sure.

"Boy, have you any idea what time it is?" I visibly shrunk as he approached me. "Well? Answer me boy."

"Um, no sir. I, um, fell asleep at the docks and-" The first blow sent me reeling.

I expected that one. Another hit and a hand on my shirt to pull me to a different room. I was expecting that one too.

The next thing I didn't expect.

There was a slam, and then yelling. And words I didn't understand. And suddenly there was a form in front of Arthur, blocking him from me.

The French man was grabbing Arthur's shoulder's, shaking him and screaming in his weird accent. He was yelling something about not hurting me, but he was just being stupid.

This was punishment for being bad, and Arthur had the right to do it.

I was between them in an instant, protecting Arthur from his evil hands.I clung to him protectively, glaring daggers at the french man.

"Leave Arthur alone!" The words sounded much more solid than I thought they would. A soft hand running through my hair was my reward, and I instantly closed my eyes like a content cat.

Francis took a step back, something akin to fear running through his eyes. I wasn't sure why, I wasn't going to hurt him.

He sighed and nodded, heading back to his room.

"I will have a word with you about this later Arthur."

And then he was gone.

I was quickly pulled to my own bedroom, following obediently behind.

Arthur tugged me again, landing my laying across his lap- when had he sat down?

I didn't know, but I would hear my belt being undone, and suddenly, my pants were around my ankles.

Punishment for my missed curfew.

I bit my lip as I heard his belt being undone, knowing I wouldn't have the mercy of a bare hand.

But...I wasn't hit. At least not with a belt.

Two rather rough, half-hearted spanks from a bare hand, and suddenly I was lifted- forced to sit upright in his lap.

"A reward for defending my Alfie." I blushed as he kissed my forehead, the nickname giving me butterflies.

I was pulled closer, gasping as a hand wrapped around a more...sensitive part of my body. I whimpered softly, feeling the blood rush to that area.

The same piece of anatomy was pressed against it, and whined in a pleasured confusion as I felt it stiffen and pulse against mine.

He kissed my forehead again and told me to shush, that Francis was close by, and he wasn't allowed to hear my voice.

I nodded, but couldn't keep myself from keening in pleasure when that hand started to move.

A harsh slap made my cheek sting, and I instantly shut up, throwing my head back as an alternative.

He grunted softly, his hand moving quicker as pre-cum slicked it's path.

By now I was panting, a shivering mess of an adolescent boy.

He seemed to notice this, how close I was drawing to completion- my endurance still very limited. One hand found it's way to my hair, it's nimble fingers tugging on that strand, driving me to the edge.

Another hand covered my mouth as I realized Arhur had figured this situation.

I let myself return to that white place, moaning as the feeling shook my entire body. I felt his own release on me as I came down fromm my high, opening my eyes to a spot of red- staring at the wall.

I slumped forward onto him, nuzzles his neck gently at the feeling of a hand running through my hair.

A few seconds went buy and I dimly heard him telling me to get up- I must have been too large for him to carry.

I stood, barely walking to my bed as I collapsed onto it, a thin blanket being draped over me.

Another moment with that hand in my hair, and suddenly I was the only one in the room. I stared at the wall until I drifted off.

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Please review 3


	14. Realization

I'M BACK.

Woot, I finally have a computer. Ok, so here is the new chapter.

Warning: Abuse

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia

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I rolled over, stretching like content cat. It was morning again, and I was already excited- it was beautiful outside.

I couldn't wait to see Authur, to ask him to come outside with me.

The sun shone bight in the sky, the flowers were in full bloom, and the birds sung the most amazing song.

Summer truely was the best time of year.

I slipped on my dress shirt and pants, black suspenders sitting just right on my shoulders. It was Arthur's favorite outfit, and I loved it too. I have to say, even though it was annoying, and I hated wearing it... I looked good.

I ran from my room, hoping to surprise Arthur and get him to come play outside with me.

I smiled, trotting through the house. I stepped to a hallway, scrunching my nose in distaste. It smelled like cigarettes...we weren''t supposed to smoke in the house.

I followed my nose, letting it lead me to the Frenchman's room.

I felt myself scowl, anger running rampent in my mind...He had the nerve to step in during a punishment, and then break one of Arthur's rules! That was it.

I walked toward the door with a firm scowl, ready to simply barge in.

I reached for the doorknob, but stopped myself."Ahuklhf, would you put that out? The whole house will smell."

Why would he be saying that, since he was the one smo-

"Sod off, bloody frog. If I want a fag in my own home, I'll damn well smoke."

My hand froze in midair, that was...Arthur's voice.

I bit my lip, trying to keep in my surprise. I stood and listened, an overwhelming feeling crashing into me, though I could not figure out what it was.

It was as if a hole had formed in my gut, and I wished there was food in my stomach to even throw up.

"Don't be ridiculous. He's a good shag now and then, that's all."

"But jekns, he is but a child, I do not know if he is ready to understand what you are doing! Love is supposed to be mutal."

"Shut up. It's just sex."

And I ran away. I couldn't listen anymore.

I'm not sure where I ran, I just kept going until I couldn't hear anything other than the sound of my heartbeat in my ears.

And even then I kept going.

And going and going. Just kept running until when my legs burned. And even then, I kept running.

I collapsed under a tree as the tears finally came.

_good shag...that's all...good shag...that's all...that's all...that's all...that's all...that's all..._

I pulled my knees closer to my chest and rested my head on them. I felt tears dampen the fabric and dirt stain the seat, but I didn't care. It didn't matter.

I sat there as the words played over in my head. It couldn't be true. He must have said that to get Francis off his back. He didn't rell feel that way.

Arthur loved me.

He did.

He had to.

I sniffled, my crying slowly coming to an end with a fit of hiccups.

That was it, he was covering it up. He just didn't want to admit anything to that stupid Frenchman.

I sat and stared at my feet, processing that thought. It had to be true. It just did.

"Kid, you shouldn't look so depressed like that. Not awesome."

I looked up, startled.

"What's your name?"

"A-Alfred."

"Sounds like elf. Makes sense since your so short and stuff...Alfred...elf...I'm so awesome...The names Gilbert."

I felt my face heat up. I didn't know why I answered him the first time, but when he insulted my name, I boiled with anger- I was not an elf! And Arthur loved my name!

"What do you want?" I glared up at him from my place on the ground.

"Whatever kid, I'm just saying. No girl is gonna think your awesome if you mope like that. I'm awesome with the ladies. If you need some help with the girls, just come find me, I'll help you with my awesome skill."

I scrunched my eyebrows in mild annoyance at the albino. There was nothing 'awesome' about him. He smirked at me like he was the ruler of the world, and I already had a distaste for him...but he seemed nice enough, and he even offered to help me...

And like that he was gone. I hadn't even noticed when he left.

I stood and dusted off my pants, heading home.

It was nearly nightfall as I returned home. Arthur was reading in his chair and I smiled at him. That focused look in his eyes was too cute...just so...perfect.

"Hi Arthur."

He looked at me over his book and smiled, apparently in a good mood.

"Francis left this morning Alfie."

This explained his good mood.

I went straight to my room, soon falling asleep in my nice clothes.

This seemed to please Arthur, as I woke up to his smirking face as he unclipped my suspenders.

Our nightly ritual.

I wiggled from his grasp, backing up on my bed.

"C-can we not do this tonight Arthur? I-I'm tired."

This was met with a harsh slap and a throbing in my cheek.

"This is punishment for falling asleep in your nice clothes. This is how you treat the nice things I buy you?"

"S-sorry Arthur."

I let him continue with his stripping.

Though I wasn't tired, it just felt weird when he touched me and I couldn't figure out why.

I closed my eyes and let him continue, just trying to steady my breathing.

I felt a hand reach into my underwear and suddenly I was against the headboard, my heart pounding and the resonant of the word 'no' bouncing off the walls.

Arthur looked astonished...and angry...So I must have pushed him away.

...

I woke up the next morning alone. There was blood drenching the sheets and a hand shaped bruise around my wrist. Marks of varying color and size littered my bare body, and I could barely move from my spot on my bed- pure pain coursing through my veins. I couldn't fogure out what had happened the night before- something told me to be glad for it.

Arthur must have repented for having given me such a harsh punishment, and made the bad memories go away to protect me.

I was so lucky to have him...but for some reason it was still painful.

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Ok, I hope you enjoyed the new chapter. I'm so happy I finally got this up.

Anyways, I'm uploading a Chronicles of Vladimir Tod, a Loveless, and a Parental!Liet and colony!America fanfictions soon, so check them out if you get chance. :3


	15. Lockdown

Warning: Abuse

Disclaimer: ...Really? I need to state that I don't own the series 15 times?

A/N: Ok, this is the next chapter I got done while my computer was down. Please enjoy.

R&R

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It was just one moment. Just little mistake. One moment of bad judgement. Just one. But even then I knew I would pay dearly for it.

It had been nearly two weeks. For half of the first week, I could barely walk. I lmiped around the house. And eventually, I could walk normally again. I still don't know what events occured that night, but I honestly wanted to.

I wandered into town to pick up more groceries, a smile gracing my face and a warm heart that seemed to radiate from the kiss Arthur had placed on my forehead.

I went through my usual routine, buying tea and most of what I needed. It appeared I had run out of money before I could finish buying groceries, taxes had been raised, again.

I pondered how much more pocket change I would need to buy food, but before I knew it, the food was splayed over the ground. I had bumbed into a boy- one much older than me. He looked down at me with a smile. His eyes seemed to sparkle and he radiated pure charisma. He held out a hand to me. "Sorry 'bout that kid. Didn't see ya there." He helped ne to my feet and I quickly gathered up my belongings.

He was speaking to several other men, and I listened intently- intrested in what such a man could have to say.

They spoke of something called the "patriots"...and I couldn't put my finger on what they were actually speaking of.

They were speaking of flags.

They were going to sew flags.

I got excited, I wanted to sew too. "C-can I come?" My smiling nearly hurt my face, but it seemed fun. like a club.

The man raised his eyebrow at me. "Kid, do you even know what we're talking about?"

My smile brightened. "Of course! You're going to make flags for the patriots! I wanna help!"

His smile insensified, as if he was trying to match my glee. He ruffled my hair, chucklng lightly. "Well alright kid, come with us."

So I followed behind, carrying my large bag of groceries with me.

The man sat me down with a group of women. They had several drawings in front of them, and were sewing them with an intense concentration.

They smiled collectively at me and put me to work. Several hours and bloody fingers later, and I had my very own patriot flag.

I ran home with it, greeting Arthur before I put away the groceries. I kept that little flag in my pocket, proud of my work... I would show it to Arthur later.

Later came rather soon, and I eagerly showed Arthur my flag- maybe it was good enough to hang up!

He gritted his teeth as I chatted away, happily holding up my flag.

I yelped as a hand tangled it's self in my hair and yanked, dragging me along. "How DARE you bring that into my house you little git. This is how you repay me for all I've done for you?"

I didn't know what he was talking about, but I couldn't question it as he pulled me by my hair. I felt strands loosen and fall from my head.

He finally released my hair, throwing me down a flight of stairs. It wasn't my first fall down stairs, but one could never get used to falling limp in a pile of your own limbs.

I groaned in pain, climbing to my hands and knees. I looked back up the stairs and watched as Arthur walked down them, joining me in our small celler.

His foot met my stomach and I toppled over, coughing and gagging on my own breath.

ifoot met my stomach again.

Then my ribs.

My face.

I felt a rib crack.

And all I saw were his perfectly polished shoes, now scuffed with dust and blood.

He turned and went back up the stairs, leaving me as a bloody mess.

I heard the door clink and lock.

I was locked in the small room.

I coughed, gagging on the dust that came with each staggered breath.

It hurt to inhale, and each time I did, it brought on another coughing fit.

There was nothing in that basement.

No light.

No food.

No warmth.

Just darkness.

I dug my nails into the wall, slumping down as my tiredness caught up with me.

I picked at the grainy sustance that had accumulated under my nails.

How long had it been? A day? A week? Two?

I leaned back against the wall, my dazed eyes darting around the room. At some point, during a time beyond my consciousness, I fell asleep. My tired body unable to support me any longer.

My breathing became more stable as my rib began to heal.

I blinked as my eyes adjusted to the small stream of light coming from the door.

Arthur stood at the top.

I ran up the steps, stumbing multiple times as I went.

I clung to him tightly, the mere force of the hug pushing him back a step. The tears came before I knew it and I buried my face in his chest. "I love you Arthur, I love you so much. I'm sorry. I love you."

His arms wrapped around me protectively, a soft hand running through my dirty hair. He shushed me and told me everything was alright, that he loved me too.

How could I do that to Arthur. How could I betray him. I loved him so much. I was his.

He took me upstairs to bathe, and put me in clean clothes. I was given a scone and some tea, and I swallowed both gratefully.

Arthur took such good care of me.

My hair was ruffled lovingly and things went back to normal.

I had been down there 3 days.

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Reviews make me smile.


	16. The Beginning

Short chapter is short. My apologies. AnimeNEXT drawing so close, I'm all over the place.

Disclamer: Bleh. Hetalia no mine.

Warning: The usual for this kind of story.

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The season quickly began to change, warm summer days turning to chilly fall nights.

I turned over and cuddled into Arthur's side. The bed was plush under my worn body and Arthur emitted a comforable warmth.

I had slept in his bed that night, a prvilage I had been denied for years.

I had been running a high fever, and Arthur had taken pity on me.

At that moment, I didn't know what I would have done without him, I realized, I needed him. Needed his comfort, his care. I had no means of caring for myself otherwise.

I continued to grow rapidly, something I myself could never explain. I was near a full grown man, rather, teenager, I hadn't the maturity, strength, or capability of a man.

I wrapped my arm around him and I think he was too tired to care- he had been up most of the night taking care of me as I threw feverish fits and heaved with horrible stomach pains.

I inhaled deeply through my nose, smelling the faint aroma of tea and cigarettes- the comfortingsmell of Arthur.

I woke up some point later, when, I don't know. I just know it was light out, and that Arthur was no longer next to me.

I rubbed my eyes, groggy and still dizzy from fevers.

I slowly made my way down the hall and too the kitchen, where Arthur seemed to have left his gentleman persona, because he was screaming and raving at a man in the room.

He seemed startled by Arthur's fowardness, and I vaguely wondered if Arthur was going to punish him for whatever he had done. But, he didn't. And the man left without another word.

I walked into the room as he stepped out, and Arthur immediatly raised his hand to me.

I had been spying.

I flinched back, because I knew I shouldn't have been doing that.

But Arthur thought better of hiself and lowered his hand, afraid I might still be sick.

He ruffled my hair instead, and sent me to go make breakfast. I did so quickly, wanting to make Arthur happy. I hated when he was in such terrible moods.

I placed his plate in front of him with a smile. "Thank you for taking care of me. I love you Arthur."

He smiled at this, but focused more on his breakfast than me, but I was content anyway; happy as long as Arthur was.

Later that day I had gone into town, turning a deaf ear to all of the hushed complaining and talk of taxes. It was none of my concern as long as it was none of Arthur's. Merely talk.

I wanted to give Arthur something extra special before he left for england the next week; so I wondered into his favoite teashop in town with the intent to buy him something wonderful.

I had gone in with exact change- saving money was a difficult task afterall. I picked his favorite tea from the shelf- thrid shelf, left side of the store. Red and blue stripped packaging, third in from the right- and brought the tea to the man selling.

To my surprise I didn't have enough money...the tax had been raised. The kind man gave it to me anyway, the small wrinkles surounding his mouth shifting as his ace twisted into a quiant little smile. He said this was the first and last time, he couldn't afford to be giving out his tea. Not with the taxes so high.

I walked out, proudly holding my bag. Arthur would surely love it...but I couldn't help wondering how taxes ould be raising so much, but I simply banished the thought from my mind. It wasn't my concern.

I stumbled suddenly, nearly tripping over another young man. He had a small sneer on his face, as if he had intended to trip me. He looked...sleezy to say the least. His greasy hair hung limp in a loose ponytail, and his clothes looked as if he had been trampled on. His bruises proved that he had surely been rough-housing (comething Arthur forbide), and his eyes were like his movements- ferral- of a cat.

I seemed to remember him from somewhere. Some time in my past I couldn't collect. A vague notion, something to do with his forgettable face I suppose.

I stormed over to speak with him, but someone had beaten me there.

A very unforgettable face. A strong, pridefully stance so contrast to his ferral like qualities. His eyes bore into your soul and his hair flowed in the wind with a deep excitment and liveliness. He had a step aout him that was daring, if not foolish.

His red eyes and white hair stuck out to me like no other. THe words crisp and new in my mind. "The name's Gilbert." The albino who was most definetly NOT awesome, should anyone have asked me.

They spoke in hushed tones and swiftly Gilbert turned to me, throwing a casual arm over my shoulder, as if we were good friends. Before I could shake him off, I was already in the conversation.

Such a simple sentence. Only one. And I'll always remember it. I'll always remember how the fine lines on that forgettable face softened, and slightly bushy eyebrows rose in both keen interest and shock. How his ferral lips curved to form a perfect smirk. And how the smile became genuine as Gilbert seemed to give him the ok.

One sentence.

"This guy totally wants in on such an awesome plan, kese~"

And though I didn't know it at the time. I was unknowingly to be a part of what would later be known as The Boston Tea Party.


	17. Tea PArties Aren't For Kids

Sorry 'bout that. I had my Sweet 16, and finals, no computer, and work, and...I should have updated. Opps, please read anyway.

Disclaimer: Does not own.

Warning: None really necessary.

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I dipped my index and middle fingers in the black paint, drawing matching lines on my cheeks with the tabacco like substance.

I looked pretty awesome in the getup, that I couldn't deny. The feathered heapeice was a bit too large, but it's flamboyant colors made it exciting and fun to wear. The loose clothes made it easy to run, and they were comfortable too.

I ran out to join the group. I had slept in the cat-man's home the night before- John his name was.

Arthur was back in England, and I was glad for it. I wouldn't have been allowed to sleep out otherwise.

I followed the leader- a man named Leonard Pitt ran my group.

It was late at night and the only sounds heard were that of owls and our coal covered footsteps toward the ships.

I boarded my ship with the other men.

Three hours.

That's all it took.

Three, fun, brotherhood filled, incredible hours.

I watched the tea pour into the harbor and vaguely wondered if it flavored the water.

The others cheered and urged me on, telling me to dump the tea.

I dumped the contents of te barrell into the water, watching the ships crew out of the corner of my eye. They looked nervous, scared, but I poured the tea anyway.

It was fun, I felt closeknit to my people, like I understood them.

I wanted to help my people- so I went along with this. Arthur would never know I was involved- it was just a protest.

I kicked my shoes off, shoving my indian getup in the closet. I was tired. So I tired I couldn't hold myself up.

I fell asleep thinking about how disappointed Arthur would be in me.

I didn't dream that night. Everything was black.

Everything but, a little red spot.

* * *

Review? The next chapter will be up tomorrow. Sorry for the pathetic length. I will probably tweak it a bit, but I needed to upload something.


	18. Much To Learn

Ok~ Chapters out, as promised. Tomorrow another will be out. (kind of my apology for such a long absense ^^;;)

Disclaimer: Does not own

Warning: Honestly, none needed here

* * *

I woke up the next morning in what I could only describe as shock.

The birds were chirping, the sun was shining, the chilly fall air blew colorful leaves around the outside world.

And it was shocking.

Arthur had not come home in a rage. The colonists had not majorly revolted. The British soldiers had not masacared the village.

It was the same.

Nothing had changed since the night before.

And I could not, even to this day tell you if I was happy, disappointed, or anything of the sort.

I was just there.

It was the first time I had ever knowingly defied Arthur, and couldn't help but wonder about all of the things I had missed out on with my people.

I got of bed and dressed quickly, wanting to get out of the house as soon as possible.

I had people to talk to.

Thirteen whole colonies to learn about in 3 days.

Three days before Arthur came home.

That's what I had.

I ran outside and towards the house where I had sewn flags.

Three days passed in that house and I had brely noticed.

Somewhere between the warm food, intense conversation, arguing, and knowledge, I lost my ability to tell time.

I ran home, making sure I beat Arthur there.

And as I ran, I processed what I learned.

The South made money on plantations, and loved using the free labor of slaves to do it.

The New England colonies were snootty about that or something, but they were more industrialized.

And the middle colonies. A diverse group who came here for religious freedom- avioiding oppression and things.

I was quite sure I was in the New England colonies, but my mind was so muddled with the important information, I was forgetting things left and right.

And the important thing was taxes.

Too high.

Too many.

It was crushing the people.

I smoked on the porch as I waited for Arthur to come home.

I missed him terribly. I wanted to hug him, to make him tea, for him to love me.

A hallow feeling built in my stomach, and I wanted to hurl.

I was guilty.

How many times had I disobeyed Arthur since he left?

I couldn't even remember.

"Boy, put that damn thing out."

He approached me with his usual indifference. But I loved it.

"Didn't I teach you better?"

I put out the cigarette in a heartbeat, clinging to Arthur for dear life.

That hallow feeling was back adn I wanted to throw up.

Throw up or die.

I couldn't tell.

But Arthur would make it better, I knew that.

"I missed you Arthur, I missed you so much."

* * *

Please Review^^


	19. Suffocation

Disclaimer: Clearly I am not a Japanese coorperation

Warning: violence and abuse

A/N: I actually rather like this chapter

* * *

Arthur pated my back once and demanded I stop clinging to him.

I did, of course, smiling in pure glee at his return.

The feeling in my stomach had gone away, Arthur made everything better- even when he wasn't trying.

The day went on quietly. Arthur was unpacking his belongings in his room, and I was 'reading' in the livingroom.

If only I could remember howlong you're supposed to wait before turning the page when fake reading...

I watched Arthur intently as he entered the room.

He was truely amazing.

He made himself tea and sat at the table, silently sipping it.

"Alfred, come here."

I walked over, an eagerness gracing my step as went.

I stopped, looking up at him with bright, loving eyes.

The same eyes were screwed shut a moment later, a strangled cry tearing it's way from my throat as my back was scored with whatever steaming tea didn't hit my face.

I clawed at my face, as if it would prevent the severe pain of the boiling liquid sizzling my skin.

I could feel blood mixing with the substance, making it thicker and slightly cooler.

The wind was knocked from my lungs, and all screaming stopped as Arthur sat attop my torso, his nimble fingers curled around my neck.

I gasped for air as his fingers constricted my breathing, my dirty nails digging into his forearms rather than my face.

Now my eyes were wide, staring at his cold ones as I struggled for air.

"Alfie, why was there an indian headdress in your closet?"

The nickname confused me more than the question, and it showed through the confused squeak I made- a plea for mercy, as well as my life.

I didn't know if he wanted an answer, it was clear he already knew it.

I gasped and writhed beneath him, until finally, there was a bit of air.

I swallowed it greedily, unsure when I would get more.

"I'm disappointed in you Alfred, this isn't how I raised you."

One hand removed itself from my neck in favor of caressing my cheek.

I wasn't sure when the tea had stopped burning my face.

The reality was, it hadn't, but air was much more precious.

I stayed still and tried to steady my breathing as his free hand wandered.

It moved from my cheek, to my chest, my hip...

I gasped- the inside of my thigh.

I closed my eyes, unable to look into Arthur's. Not when the looked so...so ferral...so playful...so mischiveous...so angry...so...

so dangerous.

I closed my eyes and just tried to breath.

His hand was making breathing difficult, but not impossible.

"I'm dissappointed you."

He repeated himself, his hand resting on my hip.

I recognized the movement of his hand.

It had seemed to repeat before in beatings when I was younger.

But for some reason my mind was registering it as sexual.

Of course, at this point, I had only known the basics of sexuality, running on what Arthur had provided me with over the years.

I was scared.

I had no idea why, but I was so scared.

It wasn't the suffocation, because I had been able to deal with it.

The hallow feeling was back.

That's what it was.

Guilt.

I knew I deserved this punishment.

"Are you listening to me Alfred?"

I nodded. I always listened to Arthur.

He grabbed me by the hair and dragged me to my feet.

I was too worn to scream, so I stood. Simply stood.

"We'll discuss this in the morning. Now go to bed."

As I laid awake in my bed, stairing at nothing.

I rolled over and began to drift off, and I couldn't help but feel Arthur's hands on me.

On my cheek, my chest, my hip, my thigh.

The familiar touches were driving me mad, and I didn't know why.

I fell asleep thinking maybe I'd ask France, teh said he was a 'hounddog' anyway, whatever that is.

But I couldn't help but notice, a small splash of red blood, not too high on the wall.

* * *

Review Please^^


	20. Childish

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia, nor am I, in any way, affiliated with the company that does.

Warning: Obvious things.

* * *

I sat and stared in the mirror, the burn marks on my face making me unable to look away, and too horrified to blink. As if the image might attack me if I dared to turn my back on it.

I sat and stared for hours. It wasn't as if I had a choice.

I was locked in my room. Arthur had decided that since I couldn't behave like a grown up, I wasn't allowed in a grownup world.

So he locked me in my child's world.

In a room with only a bed, a dresser, a mirror and some old toy soldiers Arthur had made for me.

And a bloodstain.

A small one on the wall, not so far out of reach.

I paced around the small room, trying to resist looking in the mirror.

It was a horrifying notion to look in that damned thing.

But what else did I have to do?

Arthur came in my room five times a day.

Breakfast.

Lunch.

Reading or a game.

Dinner.

And...something I could never find the right words to describe.

I could have called it our nightly ritual...but that wasn't what it was. It was different than that.

During that time he was always so sweet...gentle...loving. He proved to me he could love me, even if I was ugly.

My heart skipped a beat as I unknowingly looked back into the mirror.

But when he came in at night now...

Even if I begged, pleaded, cried- he still made me...bend to his will. Whatever he wanted.

I can't even describe what occurred at night- sex, love making- hell, even 'shag' didn't sound right.

Nothing ever could.

I sat on the floor Indian style, staring into the mirror.

I knew the marks would fade away soon enough...but...I couldn't bear how ugly they were.

I touched my neck, where new hand prints covered the old bruises.

I smiled at my reflection.

But I can't remember him smiling back.

I never could.

Another figure stepped into frame.

I looked away from the mirror, outside.

It was too dark for dinner, so it had to be time again.

I blacked out.

* * *

I know that chapter was ridiculously short. I'm posting the second half of it tomorrow.


	21. Running

Ok! As promised, the rest of the chapter.

Disclaimer: Does not own.

Warning: There is mature content in the chapter, very undetailed rape.

* * *

My vision was blurred, but I didn't know why.

I screamed, the first the I saw in my consciousness was my burned face.

It took me a moment to realise it was my own reflection.

It was dark out again. It was night.

Arthur had come in three times today, and each time, I denied the food he offered me.

It was almost time.

If my count was right- and it always was.

Click.

My door opened. Right on time.

I looked up from my spot on the floor, turning large eyes on the thin frame that entered my room.

I said nothing as his hand rested on my shoulder, my focus elsewhere.

His fingers moved to my chin, and I let him press his lips to mine.

He pulled back and grabbed my hand- I knew he wanted me to follow him to the bed, but I didn't budge.

He tugged a bit harder, and I fell back, not really there enough to react properly.

He scowled down at me.

"Up boy."

And I obeyed, sitting back on my bed.

I can't remember how I was feeling- I think my stomach hurt, probably because I was hungry.

I shivered, the lower half of my body was suddenly cold.

I could swear I heard the word 'punishment', but I was too preoccupied with the silent scream that tore from my throat.

I could feel blood slicking his path as he went.

The pace was merciless and the pain...there was not pain. Only numb.

I couldn't feel it.

I screamed as he completed and louder when he pulled out- cum and cold air shocking the freshly torn skin.

I rolled over on my side, crying into my pillow.

I can't remember if Arthur was still in the room, if he whitnessed that shamefull act, but I couldn't care.

The tears stopped coming and I finally had the nerve to look up.

Arthur was nowhere to be found.

Good.

I lurched over the bed, spilling the nonexistant content of my stomach onto the floor.

I looked out the window, my stomach felt like it was on fire.

I guess it wasn't guilt making me sick before.

The night was pitch black.

I rolled over on my bed and hissed in pain.

I looked back out the window.

I don't know when, or with what, but I smashed it.

And I ran.

And ran.

I kept going, even when I felt myself start to slip over the blood on my feet.

I ran until something stopped me.

I hit the ground with a cry of pain.

"Hey, watch where you're going!"

"Gilbert! Do not be so rude! Are you o-He's bleeding!"

"Und he's naked! Kese~ Oh, shit! That's a lot of blood!"

"Kid, are yo-Alfred?"

I passed out.

* * *

We're drawing near to the end of my little spiele. hope you all enjoyed it so far.


	22. War

Disclaimer: Hetalia=not mine

Warning: none really.

This chapter is short because a second one will be uploaded tomorrow.

* * *

I woke up with a start in...my bed? No...I could have sworn I ran out...I thought maybe it ha been a nightmare.

I yawned and rubbed my eyes, blinking to clear my vision...This was DEFINETLY not my bedroom. It was...all girly and shit. Well...not girly. French. But I could never see a difference between the two.

I stretched, screaming as pain ricoshayed up my spine.

Not a dream.

"Ghfpbvla, good morning." I knew that voice. And I knew the Frenchman it belonged to.

The voice that was always wro-right.

"How are you feeling?"

I stared at him. I didn't know what to say. I didn't _want_ to say anything. I was half hoping that if I closed my eyes again, I would die. That maybe Arthur would show up and apologize and beg me to come home, or maybe I would wake up in Arthur's bed...he'd be petting my hair and and wipping my forehead with a wet cloth, telling me he was so worried...because I had been asleep for so long due to a high fever.

But that didn't happen. All there was was an awkward silence. Of me staring at him with hallow eyes.

I think I startled him, his forehead was creased with worry.

I stared at him and still didn't answer his question.

He put down a tray of...rather deliscious smelling food, walking over to my side. He brushed hair from my eyes and flinched back- sharp, as if he has a disease I didn't want to catch.

He looked hurt and stepped back. "I assume Arthur hurt you like this?"

"Don't you dare say anything aganst Arthur!" The words left my mouth before I could catch them. I didn't even know I was saying them. They just...came out.

My face flushed. "I-I mean...yea..." I looked down at my calloused hands, twinnning them with each other.

I frowned, not really knowing what to say.

His hand was in my hair again, and it was soothing...like Arthur.

And suddenly I smacked his hand away, upset. "D-don't do that."

He nodded, placing the tray on my lap. "I made you breakfast Skylni, and Gilbert and I...cleaned you up, so just rest."

I nodded, feeling uncomfortable. He went to pet my head again, but noticed my discomfort. "We have much to discuss Alfred."

I blinked at him. "Like what?"

Francis sighed. "Like War."

* * *

Ok. I'm so sad. So close to the end of this. Anyway. I suppose this was pretty good for my first Stockholm fic, and I'm glad I wrote it. It is a bit pathetic, and I know I can write better than this. So to everyone who has been loyaly reading my story, thank you. I appreciate the reviews and encouragement. It keeps me writing. I hope you will stick with me in my next fiction as well.


	23. Nightmare

Ok! As promised, the rest of the chapter. (lol I say that a lot.)

Sorry, I was working on a farm last week. Thought we had internet. I was lied to. But oh well, some asshole dumped his cats on my friend's property. She took them in as barn cats. What kind of monster does that? They were half-starved. How heartless are you? Shelters exist for a reason.

Disclaimer: Does not own.

Warning: Meh. Nothin really.

* * *

I blinked at him, as if he was speaking that weird langauge he's usually speaking.

War...

He paused.

"With Arthur."

He looked at me real hard, as if he was trying to look right through me.

And it was working, because I cringed away as if my flesh were burning from his gaze.

I didn't answer him. Didn't even look at him. Instead I stared at my hands. I stared at them real hard, like he was staring at me. I noted each scrap and bruise. The way my vein branches out by my knuckles, and how when I clench my fist, the skin pulls over my knuckles, like a hyde on a drum.

I don't know how long I sat like that, but he finally sighed.

I out lasted him.

He placed the tray on my lap, reaching over to cut a peice of omlet. He held it to my mouth for me to eat, but I turned my head away.

Arthur said I wasn't allowed to eat France's food.

I thought maybe if I broke one of Arthur's rules, he'd just appear. Maybe out of thin air. And I'd get hit.

In retrospect, the idea is ridiculous, but Arthur always did have eyes on the back of his head...

A sigh interupted my thoughts. Then the sound of a fork hitting a plate.

France picked up the tray and moved it to the table.

"Jdsoin, you cannot avoid it." I still didn't look up. "You will need to discuss this with me sooner or later."

No response.

He left the room with a shake of his head, mumbling about something or other.

He came back in later that day. "Alfred, you need to eat!"

I didn't even look at him.

Another sigh.

Another closed door.

A few days went by like that.

There was always deliscious food on tray, right next to my bed.

But I never ate.

Maybe I thought I could starve myself.

No, it'd be way too convient to die that way.

I finally got up.

Just once.

And I collapsed.

Apparently, not eating or moving caused you to lose the ability to stand. Because I crumbled right to the floor.

There was running.

A gasp.

And then I was back in bed. "You have to eat something fhuion!"

I just stared at him.

He apparently didn't care about my boundaries anymore, because he stroked my hair.

I fell right into it. "Arthur told me I shouldn't."

"Well Arthur doesn't have to find out."

"He'll know."

"I won't tell if you don't."

He put the tray in my lap, and I ate my first bite of food in days.

Had food always tasted that good?

I couldn't remember food ever tasting like this...

It wasn't charred, or burned, or even a little brown. It slid down my throat nice and easy, melted in my mouth.

I practically swallowed the plate.

He chuckled and ruffled my hair, and I cringed again. He knew I didn't like that!

I scowled ad smacked his hand away- I was starting to get dizzy.

He stiffened slightly, but didn't leave my side. Not once.

We stayed like that for a while before he broke the silence.

"We need to talk Alfred."

I turned my head away sharply. He damn well knew I didn't want to talk. But I damn well knew he wasn't leaving the room without a response.

I stared at him real hard, like maybe I could shoot a lasar through his head and be done with him.

But he wouldn't have any of that.

He whacked me upside the head, though very gently. I'd be lying if I said it felt...well, like anything. But I whimpered anyway. It was so out of character I guess it took me by surprise.

"Alfred, you have been living here for over a week." He sighed. "You have to face your demons, non?" He ran a hand through my hair and I smacked it away hard enough to hear an echo.

He merely sighed again. It was pissing me off. "Alfred, you cannot keep denying these things. You ran away from Arthur, now you are here. If you no longer wish to be a colony, you have to fight for it...Arthur will not give you up so easily."

And he left.

The next few days went by in silence. Francis came in, gave me food, and left. It reminded me of being home. And it was driving me insane.

I started at the wall, thinking that something was missing.

I laid in the bed, just staring. There was something...red...oozing...from the ceiling, dripping down the walls.

Blood.

I hugged my legs to my chest and started crying...sobbing in fact.

I was scared. More scared than I've ever been about anything ever.

The red liquid slid down the walls at a snail like pace, slowly coating the walls in the substance.

And finally I screamed.

An earthquake. I remember the earthquake that followed. I remember staring at the spot on the wall. That one, clean spot on the wall. I remember shaking, the horrible shaking and the screaming.

It took me a few moments to release the screams weren't mine. It was...France's voice.

My eyes flew open.

A dream.

It was a dream.

A nightmare.

I was panting. My body was sticky with sweat. And I was crying.

Francis was pushing hair from my face, trying to talk to me, but I wouldn't. I looked around the room, and everything seemed normal. No blood. Anywhere.

"You were having a nightmare."

I turned large eyes on him. I didn't care that I wasn't supposed to be around him, that didn't matter in that moment. I clung to his sleeve. I was shaking, and I knew it. I never felt so weak, but I...I don't know. I couldn't be alone I guess. It was a moment of weakness.

He sighed and picked me up...something I didn't think he had the strength to do. He walked down the hall, with me still clinging to him. "Everything is going to be ok, ibnstskp, I promise."

He put me down on a strange bed, tugging a blanket over me. I didn't know what was happening, so I clung to his sleeve until he pryed my fingers off.

He got in the bed with me and I stiffened. I was panicing. All those marks Arthur had left to protect me...I didn't have any.

An arm snaked it's way around my waist, and suddenly I was facing him, caught between a plush pillow and his chest, a firm arm still aound my waist.

I turned large eyes on him, confused. He just smiled.

"You can sleep with me tonight, jonblae. It may keep away the nightmares, non?"

I nodded, still a bit confused.

A kiss was pressed to my forehead and it took all of my self control not to smack him...I didn't want to sleep alone.

I'm not sure when I fell asleep. But it was one of the best sleeps I've ever had.

* * *

Wooooaaaaaahhhhh almost done. Omg I'm so sad. Two more chapters I think. Anyway, review. praise appreciated, critizism welcome. 3


	24. Revolution

Disclaimer: Me no own.

A/N: Last chapter. Sad to post it. Hope you enjoy.

* * *

I woke up the next morning, comfortable. I felt...content.

The next day was the end of my peaceful stay at France's house.

I sat at the table, eating breakfast with Francis. I appreciated the distance he kept, careful not to touch my hair, or my scars, or anything else I had hit him for…or screamed over…or anything of the sort.

We were laughing, eating fresh waffles that he had made himself. They were fluffy and melted in my mouth, one of the most wonderful meals I could ever remember eating.

Until a banging on the door changed it all.

I didn't look back, didn't turn around. I knew who was at the door, but I didn't know what to do.

Francis sighed and got up, going towards the door. But I beat him there, swinging the door open to hug Arthur. He made a surprised noise, but hugged me back tightly.

"Come on Alfred, we're going home." He pulled back and grabbed my hand, throwing a glare at France. "How dare you. What do you think you were doing?"

Suddenly another hand grabbed my free hand, yanking me toward Francis. "Jkles, think carefully. Please, I know you love Arthur, I do to, but you have to think about your own wellbeing."

I looked between the two. I didn't know what to do.

Yes I did.

I shook Francis off and clung desperately to Arthur's arm. I missed that warmth. I sighed contently, turning my back to the Frenchman.

I saw the smirk on Arthur's face out of the corner of my eye, but I didn't care. I didn't care about the hurt crossing France's features, and I was glad to be back where I knew I belonged.

I didn't care about how Arthur had a frown on, I didn't care about the for foreign town we were in, and I didn't care that I could smell the alcohol on Arthur's breath. Everything was perfect.

"Git, stop clinging to me like a child."

I furrowed my eyebrows together. "But..I am...kinda. I'm your child Arthur. Your precious colony, right?"

He didn't say anything. He half nodded, but I needed more than that. I needed assurance that he loved me, approval.

"Right Arthur? Right?" And he snapped at me. A harsh slap sent me reeling and I skidded back, holding onto my cheek.

"You're an investment. Now come on." My eyes widdened as he spoke. My childhood...my memories...everything that was good and perfect...

I made a sprint back towards France's house. I knew he was under the influence, and I tried to tell myself that was why he said that. But the truth is. It was why he said. when he was drunk, he was always...

...honest.

And that's why it hurt. Why it stung worse than any beating I'd ever had.

I panted as I reached his door, banging on it as if my life depended on it, because I thought it would.

Arthur caught up to me a second later, clutching my wrist with a bruising grip.

"Alfred, we're going home."

I heard myself shout no, but I couldn't believe I had said it. Arthur was my world, I had never turned away any request he had ever made of me.

I heard the door click open, but I wasn't paying attention. I was busy trying to break free of Arthur's grip. I eventually did, his impaired state not helping his grip. But what I did next shocks me, even now.

I slapped him.

Hard.

I could see his cheek getting red, and my hand throbbed in a fashion unfamiliar to me.

He was looking at me in shock, and I couldn't bear to watch. So I turned my back to him and walked into France's home.

And I never looked back.

And, well, what happened next was a much more well known part of my story.

The famous part.

That everyone was talking about, hell, they still are.

The famous story of a little colony, who became a not so little country.

In fact. A world super power.

You could say he ruined me.

Destroyed any chance I had at a normal relationship.

My sexuality.

Suddenly I was squinting, a small light bled through the cracked door as a slim face timidly peeked through. His hair framed his face perfectly, and he peered at me with a scincere love.

"M-Mr. America? Are you...ok?" His voice was soft and concerned...

I couldn't help but smile.

I opened my arms in a 'come here' type gesture and I watched as he slowly found his way toward me, climbing into my lap and straddling my hips. Timid arms wrapped around my neck as my hands rested on his hips. He looked at me with such love and concern, that I couldn't athom being upset.

"I'm fine." I started, before the gap between our lips was closed. His kiss was soft and yeilding- unexpected and uncommon to a man of his age, but so sweet and lovable that I always melt right into it.

I kissed back gently, loving the feeling.

I felt his head on my shoulder, warm breath hitting my neck.

"You worry me sir..." His words were ironic, considered the harsh scars and horrific nightmares that haunted him from Russia's constant abuse.

I gently rubbed his back, listening as his breath hitched. He usually hated this, it brought back memories he'd rather forget, but sometimes, like now, he turned to pudding in my arms- limp and comfortable. I smiled, loving it.

I picked up his smaller frame in my arms. "Come on Toris, off to bed." I carried him back to my room and laid him in the bed.

I think he may have still been in the europhra...or maybe the pain of the touches- because he didn't protest.

I kissed him gently, before climbing into the bed myself.

He snapped back into reality and tugged my shirt collar, pulling me into another kiss. I felt my lips start to bruise an I knew what he wanted.

It was apparently pleasure he had been expierencing, because he was already ontop of me, nipping timidly at my neck- trying to encourage me to do something, _anthing,_ to please him.

"Now." He growled out lowly, grabbing me through my pants. I moaned out- god...did I mention he was hot when he was demanding?

A blush slowly fell over his face as he apparently just realized his aggressive actions.

"P-please..." He revised his earlier statement. He lost a little bit of that bite, embarassed, and allowed me to take the lead.

In that moment, I wanted to be with him forever; and I was going to prove it through my body and words..._consensually._ Because I knew he loved me too.

He grinded down on me, clearly impatient tonight.

Of course, I complied with all of his requests, enjoying it as much as he was...after all, it's a tough life for a hero.

So my childhood with the Lobsterbacks wasn't totally a lost cause.

Then there was those commies. But that's a different story.

* * *

Ok, so according to my stats, 42 people read my story. It makes me incredibly happy, but also very sad. I hope to keep improving my writing, and lengthing my chapters so more people read. Who knows? Mayne someday it'll happen. To the 42 people who have loyally read this story, and stuck with me through this whole ordeal, thank you. I hope you continue to read my work and support my writing. 3

Anyway~ If you wish to request a story, feel free. I'm currently working on two requests, and will hopefully have them up soon.


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